


The Odd Life of Nova Sue -- Part 1: Becoming

by audisawesomesauce



Series: The Odd Life of Nova Sue [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: "missing season" between 6 and 7, Becoming a Time Lord 101, Between Seasons/Series, Canon-ish, Doctor and River Song's child, Eleventh Doctor Era, Gen, Madame Kovarian survived 5:02, Madame Kovarian's unfinished story, POV First Person, Time Lord "Padawan" training, Time Tots | Babies (Doctor Who), adopted by humans, being born different is difficult, hunted by the Silence, past tense will later be changed to present tense, references to other Sci-Fi fandoms, two hearts and regeneration are sketchy, will be written as a trilogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26465728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audisawesomesauce/pseuds/audisawesomesauce
Summary: Life has its struggles, especially when one is born different from everyone else on the planet. Nova Susan Song is no ordinary teenage girl from Earth. In fact, she is not from Earth at all. She possesses these ‘abilities’ that she does not know the origins of, such as a high IQ that is much greater than any of her peers and to be able to make her skin glow gold and heal any injury at will, but her adoptive human parents urge her to keep these ‘powers’ secret from anyone she meets, including her best friend. With no clue as to why, Nova spends most of her life researching where her abilities originally came from and concludes that they must have come from her biological parents, who had given her up for adoption when she was just a few days old to be protected from a danger she does not understand—a danger known as The Silence.And they want her to be their next weapon against her own father, the Doctor.When her best friend and foster parents are kidnapped, Nova joins her biological parents through Time and Space to find them and, along the way, learns the true meaning and responsibilities of being a Time Lord.WARNING: story on temporary hiatus!
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song
Series: The Odd Life of Nova Sue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923958
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue: An Unearthly Child

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY have a proper prologue written. I hope it's enough to catch your attention.
> 
> NOTE: for those of you who have been reading this since the beginning, long before I wrote a prologue, please disregard this message, because you'll read it again in a later chapter.
> 
> For those of you who are new, welcome, and I hope you enjoy.

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe what had just happened…what I was just _told_.

I can’t believe my parents would do such a thing—to keep this secret from me for _so long_!

I guess that settles it now. The beans have finally been spilt…

It’s all true…

I am not human.

Of course, I’ve known this for a while, pretty much my whole life. Now that everything has been confirmed, it seems too absurd to be believable.

I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t even know my own _identity_ anymore. I feel like my whole life has been a big, fat _lie_.

Only _one_ thing is for certain, one thing that stands above all other absurdities:

I am an unearthly child.

A freak.

A nobody.

An _alien_.

An alien whose name was _never_ the name that her human guardians gave her.

An alien who always seems to stand out from a large crowd, simply because her IQ is _way_ too advanced for her age.

An alien who obviously has superpowers _way_ beyond Planet Earth.

An alien who doesn’t have a _clue_ where she truly comes from.

An alien whose _true_ name will haunt her for the rest of her days:

Nova Susan Song.

As much as I like the sound of the whole name put together, I don’t want it to be mine. I don’t want to possess the name of someone whom the entire universe seems to want dead. If I was born human—if I was _normal_ —I wouldn’t have to worry about such things. I could have normal rights, normal friends, a normal family…

A normal _life_.

But my life was _never_ normal, and it will never be normal again.


	2. Chapter 1: The Glow That Changed Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Nova's (Sydney's) complicated life...Regeneration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

Even though Nova Song was my real name, it was not always my name. Throughout my life on Earth, I went by a different name, which I had believed to be my real name—Sydney Elise. My biological parents wanted my foster parents to use a different name for me to better hide me from their enemies, but I wasn’t going to know any of this until much later in my life, same for my true name or any other secrets of my strange, complicated life. As most well know, this is to be expected when one is too young to discover and understand such knowledge—which is stupid, I know. 

My toddler years were pretty uneventful; in other words, nothing related to aliens and time-travel happened during that time, at least near where my parents and I lived. I had heard of the strange alien invasions happening all over the world, but none close to my hometown of Stilwell, Kansas. I always thought these so-called ‘alien invasions’ were elaborate hoaxes, just weird events that people ran to be noticed on camera because they had nothing better to do, but when people started talking about how serious the events actually were—like, when they started talking about people getting killed—I rethought things and started taking the events more seriously. I noticed that most of the invasions happened in the city of London, England, which was a city my parents and I had longed to visit. At the time, I never really understood why London seemed like a major hotspot for alien activity. I figured it had something to do with my real parents, but, again, I wasn’t going to find that out for a long time.

Because there was nothing eventful during my toddler years, my story does not begin there. It actually begins with something called Regeneration. It happened when I was four years old; although, needless to say, despite my actual age, my parents believed I had the mind of an eight-year-old, because I had the intellect of an eight-year-old (this was another ability I possessed that defined me as not human). At the time this happened, I was having massive pains from my adult teeth growing in. Because I wasn’t human, this allowed me to lose my baby teeth at a much earlier age. My parents gave me aspirin to help soothe the pain, but this ended up being the worst mistake they had ever made. Instead of healing me, the aspirin made me sick and gave me a severe allergic reaction that I would rather not describe. My family and I experienced a long night with me feeling like I was physically dying from the effects of the aspirin, which was actually happening, in a way.

Because I was severely allergic to aspirin, the med was physically killing every cell in my four-year-old body, but luckily I was able to survive the incident. My body suddenly began to glow an unearthly gold color and began bursting, like a firework, out of me in all directions. I remembered it being seriously painful, because I felt like I was being dipped in molten lava, that I was literally being burnt alive. This lasted about thirty seconds, according to my parents, but to me it seemed to last forever.

I thought for sure I was going to die, until the energy finally died down, and I felt a strange feeling I could not describe. It wasn’t just the feeling of being alive, although I could not believe how I actually could still be alive after that terrifying ordeal. Eventually, I described the feeling as being “renewed,” because that was what physically happened. That strange phenomenon was what my parents described as “regenerating,” meaning that my previous sick body had been recreated into a healthier new one, but one that still belonged to me. I no longer felt the effects of the aspirin, but I felt physically different somehow.

Despite my parents freaking out over the fact that their daughter had physically changed bodies—which was impossible for a regular human to do—right in front of them, I ignored them and immediately ran to my mirror on the opposite side of my bedroom to see what physical changes were made during my regeneration. I discovered that my body looked like one of a six-year-old, but otherwise looked—surprisingly—the same, just slightly older and taller. I also noticed that all my adult teeth had grown in, and that my eyes looked a lot greener than they were before. I was born with green eyes and had always wondered why I came out with that eye color when neither of my parents had green eyes. Throughout my life, I often received comments about my unusual eyes and how they seemed much older than they should’ve been, which was a trait I shared with my biological father, which was, again, something I wouldn’t know for a while.

Even though it was not a change I could physically see, there was an even stranger thing that was different from my previous body: I now had two hearts. Right after the glow faded from my new body, I immediately felt a queasy feeling in my chest. My heart was beating in a very irregular way, almost as if I somehow had more than one heart, which was exactly the case. Somehow during my regeneration, my body had grown in a second heart, and it was now something that was permanently a part of me, because it was something I was going to need to survive. What I had yet to find out was that this was the moment when I officially became a Time Lord…well, _physically_ , anyway. 

Because the second heart felt so strange to me, I begged my parents to take me to the hospital to have the extra heart removed, as I felt like it was some kind of virus, or contamination, or something that wasn’t supposed to be there and could end up making me more sick than the aspirin—or worse, end up killing me—if not removed soon. My parents’ response was quite the surprise to my (new) ears, as they said it was perfectly normal for me to grow in a second heart toward the end of my first regeneration, and that if they had the extra heart removed from my chest, it could kill me, even though I thought the exact opposite—that possessing the second heart would kill me over not possessing it. Apparently I needed this extra heart to stay alive, although I had no idea how, since humans needed only one heart to survive. It was like I turned into some kind of superhuman, and somehow possessing only one heart was no longer enough for me to stay alive, so now I needed _two_. After a few days, I got used to having the second heart, and it eventually felt like I had always possessed the extra heart since birth.

Another fact I would learn about regeneration was that, apparently, it can have strange after-effects on people, such as hallucinations; although, what I saw I believed was _not_ a hallucination. I remembered seeing a figure I had not noticed before standing in the opposite corner of my bedroom while the regeneration was still taking place. The figure was a tall woman with massive curly hair and wore dark clothing. She was just standing there, still as a statue, and appeared ghostlike. The woman appeared right before the glow appeared from my body. She stood there the entire time, silently watching my life force burst out of me, although she seemed to have a sympathetic look on her face, like a mother would for her sick child. I tried pointing the woman out to my parents, but I was in so much pain from the energy that I could not get a word out. Once the energy stopped, and my mother rushed to me to check on me, the woman stood there for a few extra seconds before she lifted her wrist and started interacting with a leather strap that was fastened there. I managed to lift a finger to point to where the woman was standing, and my parents glanced to where I was pointing, but they both shook their heads and said there was nobody there, even when I could physically see there was someone standing there. A second later, the woman vanished from the spot, leaving no trace of ever being in the room.

Shortly after my parents and I had calmed down from the terrifying regeneration, and after I was finally able to speak, I mentioned there being a woman standing in the corner of the room where I was pointing and described what she looked like, but my parents convinced me there was nobody else in the room and that I must have been hallucinating after the effects of the regeneration. Even though I was fairly certain I was not hallucinating, they still did not believe me and instead told me to get some rest. Needless to say, I did not get a minute of sleep for the rest of the night. How could I after I had literally changed bodies and now had _two_ hearts beating irregularly in my chest? I honestly did not feel human anymore after that moment, which was true, because this was how my odd life started, and little did I know it was only going to become stranger down the road.

The next day, my parents and I had hardly spoken about the events of the previous night. My guess was that they were still in shock from the results, which I could not blame them for, because I honestly felt the same way. Because I was physically a different person, they may not have seen me as the same daughter they raised; they may have seen me as a complete stranger that had replaced their daughter with someone else that _wasn’t_ their daughter. This was not true, obviously, because I still possessed the same memories as their daughter; therefore, I was still their daughter, but maybe not physically anymore. I proved it to them by telling them to ask me something only their daughter would know, and I answered it correctly. This continued for another few questions until they were finally convinced that I was the same person they raised and loved as their own.

Eventually, we were brave enough to discuss the regeneration. The conversation was something like this:

“What happened to me last night?” I asked, still feeling concerned about my health after what had happened. Was it going to happen again at some point? And if so, _when_? “Why do I look so different?”

After I had asked this question, I was not sure if it was the right time to ask, since both my parents glanced at each other uncertainly, like they were afraid I would ask for answers eventually, and they hoped I would forget after a while. Obviously, I did _not_ forget; otherwise, I would not have asked.

My mother decided to answer. “When we gave you the aspirin, you apparently got a severe allergic reaction to it,” she explained. “The golden glow was your body’s way of reacting to the aspirin, but instead of making you better, it decided to change your physical appearance entirely.”

“Well…sort of,” my father added. “You actually don’t look that much different; just physically older…and more beautiful.” I had to raise an eyebrow at his words, because I honestly did not consider my new appearance as beautiful. If anything, I felt like an outcast—an _alien_ , if you will.

“We knew you were allergic to aspirin, but we forgot about it and gave it to you anyway,” Mom confessed with tears in her eyes. “The aspirin killed your younger body, so it forced you to regenerate into a new body.”

At an older age, I would have viewed these words as saying that she did not see me as her daughter anymore, which probably would have hurt more than the actual regeneration, but me being a four-year-old kid not knowing how to react to her words, I asked instead, “Regenerate? What does that mean?”

“Regeneration is what allows you to heal and regrow new limbs; or, in your case, your entire body,” Mom explained. “Lizards can do this. You ever see someone on TV chop off a lizard’s tail and watch the lizard regrow a new tail? That is what regeneration is. Starfish do it too.”

I then thought, _if lizards and starfish are able to regenerate, surely humans could do it too_. I mean, _I_ did it. So I asked, “What about humans?”

After I asked my question, I saw my parents glance at each other anxiously, like they were hoping I would never ask this question and were seemingly disappointed that I had. It was like they knew something that I didn’t, and they were not ready to share the information with me; but since I had asked, they seemed to feel as if they were now obligated to tell me the truth, or at least something that was _close_ to the truth.

Mom decided to answer for Dad. “Humans can’t completely generate new bodies for themselves, but they can heal themselves,” she said. “That’s how your skin repairs itself after you scrape a knee. The human skeleton completely regenerates every seven years, but it doesn’t emit a golden glow like yours can. That’s what makes you so unique in the world.”

Feeling like this did not answer my question fully, I asked, “But how can my body glow if no one else can glow like me? I’ve never seen anyone glow on TV, except for superheroes. Superman’s eyes can glow and shoot lasers. Could I be like him?” Because of my abilities, I was hoping they would be something of a benefit rather than a burden. Maybe if people found out about my abilities, they might see them as superpowers and would think of me as a superhero instead of a foreigner.

My parents laughed. “Quite possibly. But Superman is a fictional character; he’s not real.”

“But he’s an alien,” I pointed out. “He’s from Krypton.” So what if he were fictional? Superman and I had something in common, possibly more.

My mother nodded. “Yes, that’s true; but he doesn’t exist in the real world.” She then continued, “As for why your body can glow if no one else’s can, and that you somehow grew in a second heart, those are hard questions to answer. We don’t really know why you have this ability; we just know this is an unusual ability you have.”

One thing I did not know at the time this was said was that this was actually a lie. They knew exactly why I could regenerate and nobody else could, but they decided to keep this secret from me, and not just because I was too young. They seemed to also know that, much like Superman, _I_ was an alien too, but most likely one that was _not_ from Krypton. 

“Like a superpower?” I asked excitedly. At the time, my young mind—or rather, my _new_ young mind—was thinking, _how cool would it be to have superpowers to show off to the world? I would be the most popular girl in the world_.

Mom laughed again. “Yes, I guess you could call it that.”

Hearing these words was music to my ears. In my young mind, my parents were saying I had permission to show off my powers to the world. I was so happy, I could feel my grin touching my ears, but when I noticed my parents’ serious looks on their faces, my grin immediately slipped off my face, suddenly realizing that this was not, in fact, the case.

“You are very special, Sydney,” Dad said, “and very rare. Our neighbors say you seem a lot smarter than the average boy and girl of your age, which is amazing. You have abilities that no one would begin to imagine, but it can cause a lot of questions to come up—questions we don’t really know how to answer.”

“And because of this,” Mom added just as seriously, “we want you to _never_ speak of these abilities, or even about what happened last night, to anyone, Sydney. This is very important. You can _never tell anyone_.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

Shaking his head, my father said, “We can’t say, not yet. We just need you to promise us that you will never tell anyone outside the house about your superpowers. Don’t tell _anyone_ , not even your best friends. Promise us, Sydney. Please.”

I could not believe them. Why were they doing this? This was going to be like a dream come true, and now they were seemingly taking that away from me. At the time, I did not know what it was I did wrong to deserve this, but the truth was that I did _nothing_ wrong, and that was the worst thing about the situation.

Since I did not have a valid argument or logical way to explain the emotions going through my head, I reluctantly did the only thing I could. I agreed, sighing, “Okay, I promise. But why can’t you say anything yet about why I can’t tell anyone?”

“Because you’re not yet old enough,” Mom answered, although I was not sure if this was an honest answer. “You’ll understand someday, just not today. Just keep our promise, and you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Even though I agreed to keep the secret, I still believed my parents were hiding other secrets of my abilities’ origins. I decided that if they were not going to share their secrets with me, then I was going to find them out for myself. I was never a patient person (and it was only going to become much worse as I got older), so I was going to take matters into my own hands, and I was not going to let anyone stop me from getting the answers I wanted. 


	3. Chapter 2: School Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nova's first real threat that she (almost) faces. How will she react? Will she be able to protect her friends and peers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

I thought changing bodies, along with growing in a second heart, was weird. Little did I know things were going to get weirder as I grew up, even through my school years.

Surprisingly, my first couple of years of school were pretty normal. Well…at least as “normal” as school could ever be. I received my typical education in a normal schooling environment. I studied the normal subjects as every other elementary school student, such as basic literature, science, mathematics, and world history (the last three being ones I had a particular knack for, especially world history), as well as the “extra” subjects, like PE and arts and crafts. I participated in other normal activities, like school assemblies and holiday celebrations. I even was able to make a few normal human friends, despite my obvious—at least ones that were obvious to _me_ —non-human aspects.

Not knowing I would experience these normal few years, I was a bit nervous to go to school, especially as a non-human (not that I knew I was non-human back then, which I didn’t). Even after my parents urged me to keep my regenerative powers and two hearts a secret, I wasn’t sure if leaving their watchful eyes was a good idea. Before this, my parents greatly considered homeschooling me, but then my dad suggested going to a proper school would be better for me, as it would help me become more familiar with the world and feel more encouraged to ask for help, especially from those who weren’t my parents. He said that at some point I would need to feel comfortable to live my life as normally as I could possibly live it and not let my non-human superpowers keep me in the dark since I wasn’t allowed to reveal them.

“Be like Clark Kent,” he said to me on my first day of Kindergarten. “Live your life like a regular human, but don’t show your superpowers to anyone. Do that, and you’ll be the greatest non-human human on Earth.”

“‘Non-human human?’” I remembered asking him, puzzled at such an unusual phrase. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that despite your seemingly non-human abilities, that should never stop you from living your life like everyone else,” he explained. “Just be your normal human self, even if you don’t see yourself as ‘normal’ because of your abilities. Be strong, be brave…but further most, be _smart_. Your strengths and your knowledge are what make you invincible. You can do _anything_ , so long as you follow those three rules.” 

If I knew better, I would’ve realized that my father had actually admitted that I wasn’t human by saying those words; but, of course, me being the five-year-old kid I was at the time, I had no realization of this whatsoever. The only thing I got out of this discussion was that I was to pretend to be like Superman, but as his human alias Clark Kent. Clark lived a normal life working as a journalist in the city, but he never showed off his superpowers in the workplace that made him…well…Superman. As my dad was escorting me to school, I realized that he wanted me to do the exact same thing as Clark Kent, but as a regular school student and whatever other profession I may pursue in my later life.

So, that was exactly what I did in my first two years of school. I worked hard and received top marks in my lessons, and my teachers were most impressed with my level of intelligence, which was way beyond the Kindergarten/First-Grade level. Of course, all I could really say about that was that the comprehension of the topics came naturally to me and had absolutely nothing to do with possible superpowers way beyond Planet Earth (the latter being a total lie, of course). I never let my fear of accidentally showing off my superpowers come to the surface. I just stayed my normal human self, just as my dad had said.

It all worked out in my favor, because I was able to make a couple of new friends. In Kindergarten, I met a girl named Samantha Owens. Samantha and I became fast friends and did everything together until Samantha had started to become highly centered on only herself, which I hadn’t realized was happening until I met another girl in our same grade named Hazel McAdams, who had transferred to our school in First Grade. When Hazel helped me see Samantha for what she truly was, I immediately ended my friendship with her and directed it all toward Hazel, who became my new best friend.

Through Hazel, I quickly learned that Samantha was one of those manipulative brats that would pretend to be your friend and then would stab you in the back once you were deep enough in her grasp. Hazel, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of Samantha. Unlike Samantha, Hazel was very selfless and caring about those closest to her, though her pretty looks failed to prevent her from being viewed as being from the “popular crowd” (she was never really into that). Despite her pretty looks, she always strived to help others and put smiles on everyone’s faces, and she was never afraid to make her opinion known. When we first met, Hazel admitted that she never thought Samantha was the right friend for me, and she helped me see that. As thanks, I insisted that Hazel be my friend, since she was struggling to fit into our school anyway, and she graciously accepted. Hazel and I were thick as thieves from then onward.

We did everything together, from partnering up with each other when we’d have class activities to swinging side by side on the swing set during recess. On most weekends, we would even find time to go to each other’s houses for sleepovers and the usual “play dates,” especially when I’d found out Hazel moved into my neighborhood, but she had moved into a house on the other side of the small creek that sliced our neighborhood in half (Hazel moved into the front section, and I lived in the back). To make life easier for us to visit each other, we made a bridge out of rocks in the creek, which other kids in our neighborhood started using as well to get across. Throughout those years, Hazel seemed like my one and only friend, which was fine with me, because if there was ever a time I would’ve had to share my big secret to anyone, better to reveal it to one person rather than a whole bunch of people, as it would prevent my secret from spreading so quickly. If I was going to reveal my big secret to anyone, it would be to my best friend, especially when she was really good at keeping secrets.

After almost a full year of knowing each other, I often thought about actually sharing my secret to Hazel, but every time I thought about it, I was always nervous about how she would react to my superpowers. Would she feel overjoyed of the prospect of being close friends with a real-life superhero? Or would she feel weirded out that I might be a psychotic alien from Outer Space that may attempt to control her mind with my own, or perform some sick experiments on her, when she least expects it, like you see in those old sci-fi horror movies? I hated the thought of losing the one friend I may ever have for the rest of my non-human life, should I tell her the truth of my strange abilities, even when I knew next to nothing about their origins myself.

Because the very thought often scared me, I ultimately decided not to tell Hazel anything about my powers unless there came a time I would have to use them while she was in the same room with me; like, for example, I felt like I was going to regenerate again (this thought made me wonder how Hazel would react to seeing me change bodies in front of her— _not good_ , was the first thought that came to mind). Often times when people are born different, they would have the fear of not being accepted into a family or group, and I often felt this exact fear when thinking about Hazel. It was only a matter of time before she—or _anyone_ —would find out about my superpowers, despite my promise to my parents that I would never tell anyone, including Hazel, and I was afraid about whether or not she’d still accept me as a friend if she did find out. Only time would tell.

Apparently time _did_ tell of when my secret would be revealed, but unfortunately it happened in a very bad and unexpected way. Surprisingly, it wasn’t me who’d revealed my secret but rather a complete stranger, and a _dangerous_ one at that. Luckily no one—except for me—was even aware that it was _my_ secret that had been revealed to the entire school, but it sure brought a lot of fear and confusion into everyone’s heads (including mine, as I had absolutely no idea how the stranger could’ve possibly known my secret in the first place), regardless of the situation.

It was a normal, boring Monday morning, just a handful of weeks after I started Second Grade. My class and I were watching one of those educational videos that was based on a book we were reading; but rather than watch the video like we were supposed to, Hazel and I were talking instead, although I was ninety-eight percent positive that we weren’t the only ones. Hazel was telling me a story of a genius prank she played on her older brother over the weekend when it happened. First, the sense came before any other action—the sense that something bad was about to happen. When the sense first hit me, I wasn’t immediately sure why I was sensing it, or even how I was sensing it— _maybe this was another of my strange superpowers_ , I thought, _like a Spider Sense, but not a ‘Spider’ Sense_ —so I didn’t think much of it. But then, the intruder alarm suddenly went off, nearly scaring everyone out of their seats. A second after, the principal’s panicked voice on the PA system told everyone this was not a drill and to lock all doors and windows immediately; we were going into lockdown. The teacher, Mrs. Besel, ordered everyone to huddle behind her desk as she ran to lock the classroom door, close the blinds of our large window, and shut off the lights. Hazel and I, being faster than everyone else, were the first to huddle in the corner opposite the door with our backs against the wall, and the rest of the class huddled around us.

At first, everyone seemed confused as to what was going on, not knowing what to think of the situation. It was very rare to have ‘drills’ that weren’t practice ones, and usually when a proper drill happened, it meant there was something very wrong happening in or around the building, and the sense of danger, now stronger than it was before, told me as much.

The sense had reached its peak when I started hearing screams of a grown man coming from the other side of the building. I glanced around at my peers, including Hazel and the teacher, but none of them seemed to hear him. I immediately added ‘super-hearing’ as another of my non-human abilities.

“I know you’re here, Time Lord!” the intruder yelled at the top of his lungs. “Come out and show yourself, and none of your peers will be harmed!”

 _Time Lord?_ I thought to myself. _What on earth is a Time Lord?_ It was an unusual name and was one I had never heard before. I briefly wondered if the name came out of a _Star Trek_ episode I missed, or one that I had watched but didn’t pay enough attention to.

“What?” Hazel murmured in my ear. I then realized I must’ve said my thought out loud, and she heard me, but luckily no one else did.

“The man in the school is looking for someone,” I murmured back, “a ‘Time Lord,’ whatever that is.”

“A Lord of Time, probably,” Hazel clarified, and I couldn’t help but think her definition to be the most unhelpful in the universe. She then paused in shock. “Wait, there’s a _man_ in the school?”

Apparently Hazel had said that a bit too loudly, because several of my other peers started panicking even more than they were when the lockdown drill had started.

“What? A man broke into the school? Are you serious?”

“What is he doing here? What does he want?”

“He’s not here to kill us, is he?”

“I don’t want to die!”

While everyone else was worrying about their lives, Hazel whispered with a frown, “How do you know there’s a man in the school? Can you hear him?”

I whispered back with a light nod, “Yeah, he’s on the other side of the building. He sounds homicidal.”

Hazel frowned again. “Homicidal? What does that mean?”

I sighed, not wanting to terrify my best friend and other peers further. “Okay,” I said, leaning closer to Hazel’s ear, “don’t freak out, but it means that he is here to kill anyone and everyone who gets in the way of his prize…whoever this ‘Time Lord’ person is. He threatened to harm everyone in the school if the ‘Time Lord’ didn’t show his or herself, and he’s probably not going to leave until the person is handed over to him.”

After I finished speaking, I was suddenly astounded at how calm I was feeling, despite the terrifying situation and the possible fact that some of us in the school—if not _all_ of us—could very well die today if this ‘Time Lord’ person didn’t hand his or herself over to the maniac. For some reason, I couldn’t help but think this guy was after _me_ , knowing of my superpowers. _Maybe he wanted them for himself or for someone, or some group, he was working for_ , I thought.

My teacher abruptly spoke up, taking notice of our obvious fear. “Settle down, children. Everyone stop talking now. If it’s true there is an intruder in the school, we can’t let him hear us.”

There was silence for another minute until the man’s voice could be heard across the hall again, but this time, everyone else could hear him too, based on the panicked looks on their faces.

“Come on out, little Time Tot,” the man said in a sing-song voice, sounding ever closer to our classroom door. He was so close now, I could hear him, clear as crystal, through the wall. “Surely you don’t want anyone of your friends or teachers to die? I’ll tear this place apart brick-by-brick, even if it means killing everyone inside. In fact, I might just do that; it’d be the only way to know how to find you.”

Most of the other kids in the class gasped at this statement. A handful of them even started sobbing, thick tears streaming down their faces.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still have plenty of lives left over,” the man continued, “depending on how many you _really_ have. I know about your little healing ability…your so-called ‘regeneration.’ There’s only one person in this entire building that can do something like that, and that’s _you_ … _Nova Susan Song_.”

This time, it was my turn to gasp, and I didn’t feel so calm anymore. How in the world did he know about my regeneration ability, and how did he know that was what I called it? As far as I knew, I never told anyone about this secret; my parents always urged me to tell absolutely no one about it, not even Hazel. Did he somehow overhear me talking about it with my parents at home? Was this creep stalking me and my family? Or did someone else tell him I lived in this town, and that I would be in school today? Maybe he didn’t come here alone; maybe he wasn’t the only stalker…

And that name he used—Nova Susan Song. Somehow, it rang a bell in my mind, like I recognized the name. More than that, I felt like the name somehow _belonged_ to me…as if ‘Sydney’ wasn’t actually my real name.

“I can sense the fear in you,” the man chuckled softly, and it was true; I was scared. Scared of my secret being revealed…scared of being treated like an outcast because of my secret…scared of putting everyone near me, including my parents and Hazel, in terrible danger if they’d discovered my secret. Basically, I was scared of everything to do with my secret in general, and obviously—though I had absolutely no idea how—this guy seemed to know everything about it, and he had revealed it to the whole school. Of course, no one in the school seemed to know the secret pertained to _me_ , but they were seemingly about to find out.

Although, the identity of Nova Susan Song, who, apparently, was the so-called ‘Time Lord’ this guy was sent out to apprehend, was still a mystery to me. According to the intruder, Nova and I seemed to share the same regeneration ability, however that was possible. I couldn’t help but think we could be related. Did my parents have another daughter they didn’t tell me about? When she was first born, did they send her off elsewhere to be protected from creeps like this guy? _I guess it’s better if the guy captured one of us rather than both of us_ , I thought. _Why did it have to be me?_

Well, if it was true that I may have had an older, or even twin, sister, and he was after at least one of us—particularly Nova—I supposed I may as well show myself. I could at least try to convince him that even though Nova and I shared the same abilities, I wasn’t the one he was looking for. If I told him I wasn’t Nova, maybe he would leave and let everyone live.

At this point, I shifted my legs in a way I was going to rise up from my spot behind the desk and confront the intruder before he started breaking into other classrooms and killing innocent children.

Hazel caught on to what I was thinking of doing. She asked me quietly with a confused frown, “Syd, what are you doing?”

I was about to answer when I heard the man chuckle again on the other side of the wall, and I immediately paused. “Aw, how cute. You wish to save everyone here. Typical, just like your father…and I _don’t_ mean your human father.” 

_Whoa, can he read my mind?_ I wondered, _or was he able to hear my stirring from inside the classroom?_ How did he know I wanted to save everyone by revealing myself to him, even though I may not have been the one he was looking for?

Also, what did he mean I was just like my father, but not my ‘human’ father? In other words, I had more than one father, but one of them—the one I lived with—was _not_ , in fact, my real father? More than that, one of my fathers _wasn’t human_ , and that was the one I was truly related to?

“That’s right,” the intruder said as if he sensed my confusion. “The ‘parents’ that you currently live with are _not_ your real parents. Your real parents gave you to these primitive humans to hide you from us. If you didn’t already know that, you should ask them sometime.”

I glanced around at my other peers, and many of them exchanged confused looks with one another. No one had any inkling of what this crazy psycho was talking about, and honestly nor did I. Apparently this guy knew a lot about my parents—if they were even my _real_ parents—that I never knew about, and it made me start to question where I was truly from, whose parents I truly belonged to.

“You can’t hide anymore, Nova,” the psycho said, sounding much closer to our classroom door. Even from the opposite side of the corner, I could see his shadow underneath the door. “Ever since your first regeneration, there have been beings out there that can smell your time energy across all of time and space…” At this point, he inhaled deeply, like he could smell anyone that was inside that gave off a strong scent. The intake of breath sounded unnatural, like something otherworldly. “And we can protect you from them. In fact, we can teach you how to fight them off. You’ve probably been told since then to keep your ‘powers’ in the dark, but we can teach you how to use them. We can teach you how to use your ‘powers’ for the greater good…to rid the universe of a great evil—your _father_.”

 _What?_ My voice screamed inside my head. Was he saying my father was _evil_? _No way!_ I shook my head. My father was the most caring person I had ever known, beside my mom and Hazel. There was absolutely no way he would secretly be some sort of criminal behind our backs…

Then again, maybe the intruder wasn’t talking about the father I currently lived with, but rather my _other_ father—my biological _non-human_ father, whoever he was.

“There are many stories about your father,” the intruder continued. “He has many names and many more secrets. ‘The Oncoming Storm,’ ‘The Beast,’ and ‘The Valeyard’ are only a small handful of titles, which don’t even begin to explain all the dark deeds he has done. Legend says your father wiped out his entire species, the Time Lords, to stop a war that was ravaging all of existence. Legend also says his worst enemies trapped him in a cage that was specifically built to imprison him for the rest of Time, but he got out anyway, and no one knows how. And now there has been talk that he has escaped death once again at Lake Silencio, Utah and is now hiding in the shadows, just waiting to be reunited with his loved ones…with his long-lost daughter— _you_.”

He paused as if to allow the information to sink into my head. For some reason, almost all of what the man had said about my biological father sounded true to me. Apparently my father had destroyed his— _our_ —entire home, and the man said that as if my father hadn’t even thought about the safety of his people; he just destroyed them anyway without allowing them a say in the matter. Then, I guessed as a result of what he did in that war, my father’s enemies trapped him in a prison that was believed to be impossible to escape from, but he had somehow broken out, using his wits and who knows what else. Then he escaped death—again, apparently—at some lake in Utah that I had never heard of before, and is now supposedly hunting me down, possibly to recruit me, or kill me. And along the way, he had taken on a few terrifying titles as trophies. If my biological father truly was evil, and he was truly coming after me, I wondered what would happen to me if he did find me.

Was this ‘intruder’ here not to kill me but to protect me from my own father? Did he know who, and even where, my father was, and had been sent here to warn me how dangerous he was and to protect me from him?

At this point, I had no idea who to trust anymore, including the people who raised me. I was even starting to question whether my life was really real or a complete lie. Was I really born on Earth? Were my parents really my parents? Was I really seven years old at the time? Was my real name even ‘Sydney Elise?’

“All this just proves how dangerous your father truly is,” the man said after a few moments. “Who knows what he would do to you if he seeks you out. That is why you must come with us. We can protect you from him. More than that, we can rid him of the universe… _together_.”

I was speechless. _Together? Like, ‘together’ together; as in, I team up with him and his band of crazies, and we work as one to take down my bio-dad?_ How insane was this? I didn’t even know these people, and yet this guy decided that my bio-dad was evil, and I was supposed to believe all of this. My life had just become incredibly odd, and I had the feeling the oddness was only going to become much worse from here onwards. The pressure in my head from a growing migraine didn’t really help my comprehension of the situation any better.

Right when the intruder had finished speaking, just when I thought for sure he was going to break down the classroom door and blow me and my entire class into next week, a woman’s voice called from further down the hall, as if to finish his last sentence, “Which is _never_ going to happen!”

There was a brief pause before the man shouted, “ _You_!” as if he knew the woman. For some reason, in that moment, I got the feeling I knew the woman too. There was something about her voice that I found strangely familiar, but I couldn’t place where or when I had heard it. The only thing that was obvious about her voice was that it sounded British, like she was from The United Kingdom.

“You must be insane to think that you would _ever_ take advantage of my daughter!” The woman exclaimed as she neared the intruder. I heard the charge of some sort of futuristic weapon, like a phaser, before she continued in a growl, “Step away from that door, or I’ll burn a hole right through your chest! And you better not have signaled to your other friends, or I’ll do something much worse!”

I had to pause at her first statement. She called me— _Nova_ —her ‘daughter.’ Was she, possibly, my— _our_ —biological _mother_? Was she in cahoots my biological father? Was she evil too? Or was she here to save us from this crazy intruder, because she knew the intruder was here for a much worse reason, and she was here to prevent him from committing this act?

We heard the intruder scoff loudly, “Oh yeah? What could be worse than a burnt hole in the chest, ‘ _mummy dearest_?’ The Vokanari are many; one less makes no difference. We will continue to grow and thrive, and soon there will be enough of us on every planet, every star system, in all of time and space, to take your hubby down before he ever reaches Trenzalore. And your daughter will be the face of our cause.”

“Over my dead body!” the woman immediately replied, and there was a clicking noise, like the cock of a gun before it is ready to fire.

“That can be arranged!” the psycho said with an evil grin—at least, that was how I pictured him. Immediately after, there was the sound of rushing footsteps away from the classroom door, and the abrupt sound of a gunshot was heard a second later. The man was heard screaming in pain from the gunshot wound, and I couldn’t help but wonder where exactly the woman had shot him—the shoulder, the leg…maybe right through the chest, like she promised.

“Damn you, River Song!” the man growled in anger. “She will be ours! _One day_!”

Once he finished speaking, strange electrical sounds were heard before everything but the lockdown alarm was quiet. This went on for another few minutes before police sirens could be heard outside the school, and everyone sighed in relief. Everything was going to be okay; we were saved.

Even though the police had finally shown up—although I had briefly wondered if that woman who saved us from the crazy man was a cop—the drill wasn’t over yet, not until the principal gave the “all clear” over the PA system and shut off the alarm; who knew whether the man, or even the woman, had actually left the premises for good. Maybe he was still out there, waiting for school to be over so he could catch me as I left school for the day. I just hoped the woman was close by to stop the man before he could get his hands on me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously Nova/Sydney hasn't properly met River here, but she will in chapter 13 (or chapter 12 if you don't count the prologue). I would not recommend skipping ahead to that chapter, though, because you will be confused, so it's better to read normally from here to that point.


	4. Chapter 3: Questions and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the threat is over (for now), there are several questions running through Nova's head about her ancestry. Will all of her questions be answered?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

Shortly after the lockdown drill was lifted, classes resumed as normal; however, all of the teachers were told to keep their doors locked and to never let their students leave for any reasons, especially without being escorted by a teacher. Much to all the students’ disappointment and to the teachers’ expectations, recess was cancelled for the day, despite the perfect weather, and lunch was to be spent in the classrooms, so literally everyone was not allowed to leave their classrooms at all. According to the principal, this was the only way to ensure that everyone would be safe from the crazy man, should he attempt a return to terrorize the school again.

We resumed the video we were watching before the lockdown, but it was, of course, impossible to focus on it. Everyone in the class couldn’t stop talking about the intruder, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what all he said in the hallway—about the ‘Time Lord’ he was after, Nova Susan Song, who I seemed to have loads in common with. I always thought I was the only one in the entire world who had two hearts and could make my body glow gold at will, but apparently, I wasn’t the only one. This other mystery girl, Nova, could regenerate, and possibly had two hearts as well. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and what other qualities we could’ve possibly shared; maybe we looked a lot alike too…or, at least, our original bodies looked alike. If that was true, maybe that was why the crazy man came to my school. Maybe he was hunting _me_ , because for the longest time he thought I was Nova, because we looked so much alike in our first bodies…like we were sisters— _twins_.

I also couldn’t stop thinking about what the man said about my parents—how the parents I currently lived with were not my real parents, that they had adopted me after my real parents gave me up to them. For as long as I could remember, even in my previous body, people said I didn’t look—and _presently_ _still_ didn’t look—anything like my parents and thought they adopted me, but I always shrugged the idea off. _So what if I looked nothing like my parents?_ I thought. _That shouldn’t stop them from loving me, and I would always and forever love them_. Still, after everything, I couldn’t help but think they were right, that the _man_ was right… What if I _was_ adopted?

The phone ringing from the teacher’s desk interrupted my thoughts in that moment. As the teacher went to answer it, Hazel leaned over to me, “Are you okay, Syd? You’ve been real quiet ever since the lockdown ended. You’re not scared the man will come back, are you?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not. I just…” I couldn’t decide whether to tell my best friend about what was going through my head, and how all of this pertained to my secret that I may or may not be human. “I just can’t stop thinking about everything he said. It was all so strange.”

“What, about the girl he was after, Nova?” Hazel clarified. “Far as I know, there’s no one in the school named Nova. Maybe the guy was just confused…or just totally crazy. Or maybe Nova was someone he used to know, and he believed she went to school here, so he came here looking for her.”

“Maybe,” I said a little doubtfully. _Or maybe the guy was after me, because he thought I was Nova_ , I thought.

“ _You_?” Hazel exclaimed, and that was when I realized I’d said what I thought I said in my head out loud again. “Why would you think the guy was after _you_? You and Nova have completely different names. Unless he thought you looked like the Nova he used to know.”

“Maybe,” I said again. “Or, like you said, maybe he was just—”

“Sydney?” I heard the teacher call my name from her desk.

“Uh, yeah, Mrs. Besel?” I said a little hesitantly, feeling my stomach twist in a tight knot at the thought that I may have gotten caught doing something wrong; we were supposed to be paying attention to the video, after all.

“Will you come see me, please? I need to talk to you,” she said calmly, though there was a hint of worry in her voice as well.

As I awkwardly rose up from my seat, I heard one of the boys say with a snigger, “Ooh, someone’s in trouble,” which made me all the more anxious to approach my teacher’s desk; for all I knew, the kid could very well be right.

“Um, did I do something wrong, Mrs. Besel?” I asked after I approached her desk.

“No, Sydney, you didn’t do anything wrong,” my teacher said, and I felt my anxiety subside a little. “I need you to pack all of your things and head to the Front Office. Your parents have called and are coming to pick you up.”

“Why?” I felt the need to ask. I also couldn’t help but wonder which parents were coming for me—the people who raised me, or my (evil?) biological parents. I sincerely hoped for the former.

“Probably because they want you home safe after the intruder incident earlier,” she clarified. “Hurry now, the security guard is coming to escort you, and you need to be ready when he arrives.”

After I nodded, I anxiously returned to my desk and started gathering up my school supplies. While I was packing, Hazel asked, “What’s going on? Why are you packing?”

“My parents called,” I replied, “they’re coming to pick me up.”

“Why?” she asked, seeming just as puzzled as I was when I asked my teacher the same question.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “probably because they’re worried about me after what happened earlier. They have been a little overprotective lately.” _Especially since my regeneration_ , I thought but didn’t say out loud. “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, or whenever I get back,” I promised her before I swung my backpack over my shoulder and waited by the classroom door for the security guard to escort me to the office. The guard arrived a minute later, and we walked down the hallway together in silence.

On the way to the office, I couldn’t stop glancing over my shoulder, fearing that the man could be anywhere, that he possibly never left the school and was still lurking around somewhere. If the man really was after me, he probably wouldn’t be too far away. His last few words echoed in my mind: “ _She will be ours! One day!_ ” I wondered what he meant by that, what sick plans he had for me…for Nova. Perhaps he would come back to try again… _one day_.

“Don’t worry,” I heard the security guard murmur to me, as if he read my mind. “He should be gone. The police made sure of it. If he’s still around, they’ll catch him.” I could only nod in response, feeling too paranoid to speak words out loud. “As for the woman…” he continued with a huff, “well, let’s hope she doesn’t come back either, if she knows what’s good for her.”

“Why?” I finally brought up the courage to ask. “She saved us, didn’t she? She scared the man off with her gun.” I remembered her threatening to burn a hole through the man’s chest if he didn’t step away from our classroom door, and that she would’ve done something much worse to him if he’d signaled to his ‘other friends,’ indicating that he may not have been working alone, even though he may have been physically alone at the school. I even remembered hearing the sound of a gunshot shortly after, hinting that the woman may have actually shot him, maybe even killed him. Either way, the woman seemed to have stopped the guy from causing further harm, and that was, in my opinion, a good thing. Because of her, we were all still living and breathing, for who knew what would’ve happened if she hadn’t shown up when she did; the timing was unbelievably fortunate.

“That may be so,” the guard continued huffing, “and she may have a pretty face, but she obviously has no problem shooting people if she doesn’t get her way. Seems highly suspicious, if you ask me. She’d best stay away from this school if she doesn’t want the authorities poking in her business.” He then took a sideways glance toward me. “She looked a bit like _you_ actually.”

“Really?” I subconsciously asked. It probably sounded stupid to him, but I was genuinely curious when I heard this.

The guard nodded. “Yeah, you share the same facial features as her.”

“Are you saying you think I’m related to this woman?” I felt the need to ask. Many people in the past have said I looked nothing like my parents, but now, I was believed to look much like the mysterious woman that saved us from the intruder. If that was true, could I actually be related to this woman? Could she possibly be my biological mother? She did seem to come here to stop the guy from taking her daughter away to who knows where. Was she referring to _me_?

My mind suddenly thought back to the strange curly-haired woman that appeared—at least to my own eyes—on the night I regenerated, the night my entire life changed forever, and I couldn’t help but think that woman and the woman that scared the intruder away were the same woman. It would’ve been a strange coincidence if this were the case. I mean, I did get the same vibe from both women—that they were at both places for protection. The woman that saved us from the intruder made it clear that she was here to protect her daughter, who she believed went to school here; although, I never saw her face. At the time of my regeneration, the curly-haired woman was also there to protect me while I was going through the process, but she also seemed worried for me, exactly like a mother would for her sick child. Both times, the women seemed to act like an anxious mother toward me, and I couldn’t help but think that was exactly what I was to them…that I was their— _her_ —daughter.

This also made me all the more confused about the identity of this mysterious Nova Song. The intruder identified the woman as River Song, so obviously Nova and River were related, since they shared the same surname. _I_ , on the other hand, had no relation to these people whatsoever; only that Nova and I shared the same regeneration ability, but this didn’t prove that we were related, certainly not by blood. 

The more I thought about it, the more painful my migraine became.

“No, I’m just saying you look a lot alike.” The guard then shook his head. “Never mind. Anyway, we’re here,” he said as we arrived outside the main office door. “Go in and do whatever you need to do before your parents get here. I’ll be keeping watch outside.” He walked to the other side of the hallway without another word, and I entered the office in my own silence.

As I sat in the office, waiting for my parents to arrive, I glanced around the room. The secretary was seen typing furiously away on her computer, probably sending word out to students’ parents about the intruder incident that went down just minutes ago. A little further down the hall, and I saw that there was a pair of policemen talking to the principal. I overheard a few words and phrases, but not much was understood to my seven-year-old mind, besides how the man will be caught and brought to justice, and how he would be made sure to never cause harm to the school again. After a few moments, they left the office, not even stopping to give me a second glance; honestly, I didn’t expect them to.

Shortly after the police left, the principal, Dr. Demoss—or ‘Dr. D,’ as the students preferred to call her—appeared from her back office. “Ah, Sydney!” she exclaimed upon seeing me. “It’s so good to see your face, and to see you unharmed in general. Do you mind if we have a little chat before your parents get here?”

“Sure,” I nodded, although in my head I felt like it was a request. Maybe she wanted to talk to me because the police had asked about me, because they believed the man was truly after me…

Or maybe I was just overthinking things and was being paranoid for no reason. Who was to say the intruder was even after me? Literally _anyone_ in this school could’ve been the mysterious Nova Song, even if she wasn’t actually going by that name.

“How are you, Sydney?” Dr. D asked in a calm voice as she returned to her desk.

“A bit shaken,” I answered honestly. I could feel my hearts still pounding in my chest out of anxiousness.

The principal nodded. “I understand. That was a pretty scary experience. I can’t imagine how all the students are feeling. You must feel the same way.” After I nodded again, she continued, “Anyway, as you know, your parents are on their way to pick you up, and I suspect many more parents will be requesting the same for their children very shortly. You’ll be spending the rest of the week at home. Although, personally, seeing as it’s only Monday, I find that a bit unwise, as you would miss an entire week of lessons.” She then smiled. “But, I hear you’re a very smart young lady; top of your class, I might add. So I’m sure you’ll catch up just fine. We’ll have your school things ready for your parents to collect and bring home to you each day so you can stay caught up.”

“Thank you,” I said. I then asked a bit nervously, “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, who was that man that broke into the school? Did the police say anything?”

Dr. D shook her head. “No, only a theory that he was a possible wanted kidnapper. He broke into the school looking for a girl—most likely a student—named Nova Susan Song. Although, there’s no record of a ‘Nova Susan Song’ ever attending this school, not even currently.”

“Do you have any idea what the man wanted her for?” I asked curiously. I thought about telling her about what I heard the man say about Nova’s possibly evil father—the one that committed genocide to his own people in a mass war, and was rumored to escape an inescapable prison—but I decided not to, since I was still highly confused about that.

“I don’t know, Sydney,” she replied with a slight grimace in her voice, “but probably not for something good. That’s all I can really say, considering your age.”

“What about my age?” I asked, feeling slightly offended. I was very familiar with the feeling of annoyance when having to wait to become a certain age before discovering a certain type of knowledge.

The principal smiled. “Let’s just say there are things in this world that children of your age shouldn’t need to know just yet.” _Typical_ , I thought. “I understand life can be hard when you have to wait to become a certain age before you can learn something, but that’s just the way it is, and unfortunately we can’t do anything about it except to wait. Anyway, don’t worry about Nova or the man; the police will take care of them. Hopefully they’ll arrest the man before he catches Nova and does who-knows-what to her. Bless her heart.”

 _Or hearts_ , I couldn’t help but think in my head. If Nova and I were really that much alike, then maybe that wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

The principal spoke up again, glancing behind me. “Ah, it looks like your parents are here.” She suddenly frowned. “It’s strange…you don’t look anything like your parents.”

“I know,” I nodded, “I get that a lot. In fact, most of our neighbors and friends think they adopted me.”

“Do you believe them?” Dr. D asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I never really thought about it.” This was a half-lie. This was true in the past, but up until now, I wasn’t so sure anymore. My parents couldn’t regenerate like I could, so I must have gotten this ability from someone else. It also explained why I didn’t look anything like them. If they weren’t my real parents, then who _were_? What if ‘Sydney’ wasn’t my birth name and was just a cover-up in place of my true name? What if ‘Nova’ was, in fact, my true name? To be honest, I didn’t think the name ‘Sydney’ really fit me, but ‘Nova’ did. I knew I would ask them when we got home.

“Hmmm…” the principal regarded my statement. “Maybe it’s time you asked about your family history. Perhaps your parents may have secrets of their own. Anyway, you should go to them. I would hate for that man or mysterious curly-haired woman to come back while you’re still here.”

I tried asking about the curly-haired woman, thinking she was the same woman that appeared to me during my regeneration, but the principal was insistent and ushered me to my parents, who immediately took me into their arms. While my dad was finalizing the permissions for me to stay home for the rest of the week, my mom fretted over me, continuously asking me if I was hurt. I kept telling her I was fine and just shaken, but that didn’t seem to ease her worries. Once my parents were given the ‘okay’ for me to be sent home, they took me to their car in a rush, as if in fear that the intruder was still close by, waiting for another attempted kidnapping.

As I was being ushered quickly into the car, I saw someone standing on the other side of the corner at the side of the school. At first, I thought it was the man again, but then I saw the familiar large curls from the woman I had seen during my regeneration, and I felt a slight pang of relief flood through my hearts. The woman wasn’t doing anything in particular, except just standing there, watching my parents load me into their car to be taken to a much safer place that was our house. I couldn’t help but watch her as my father pulled out of the school parking lot and onto the main road, the entire time my eyes locked with the woman’s—those sharp green eyes that were similar to mine. The woman and I remained like that until we were far enough away from the school, and I could no longer see her anymore.

That look in the woman’s eyes was very strange, like she was wordlessly saying through her eyes, “You’re welcome;” as in, “You’re welcome for saving your life, as well as everyone else’s.” I couldn’t help but think she was the mysterious woman that saved the school from the intruder; the principal did say that the woman was curly-haired. Even though I didn’t see her face then, I could tell now that she looked exactly like the woman from that night I regenerated, and I somehow knew they had to be the same person.

However, I remained quiet during the rest of the trip home, too afraid to share anything about the day’s events with my parents, who, unlike me, were still fretting about the situation—how the school could’ve found out about my secret, how I could’ve been killed, etcetera. They argued that having me go to school instead of being homeschooled was a bad idea, and how I would’ve been much safer from things like this happening if I stayed at home. A part of me agreed with this, but at the same time I believed they were just overreacting, as every parent would over their child that had gone through a traumatic experience without their protection. If I had been homeschooled, there would’ve been a lesser chance of me experiencing something like this, but I would never have met my best friend, Hazel. Also, who knew what would’ve happened to the students, including Hazel and staff, if no one was there to stop the intruder from doing whatever he was planning of doing that morning. Would things have been different if I never applied to attend school there? Would the attack have still happened, or would the school have been much safer if I hadn’t attended, even on that day? There were so many ‘what ifs’ running through all of our heads, but neither of us seemed eager to share them with one another, at least until we got home, but even then I wasn’t willing to share mine. The more I thought about them, the more fearful I felt for everyone, including my parents, my teachers, Hazel, and even myself.

Later that night, I was hardly able to touch my food. The whole rest of the day, I was unable to think about anything else that didn’t relate to the intruder incident at the school. The more I thought about it, the more confused I felt about the reason for everything happening the way that they did, and also the more I started questioning my own origins and identity. It was uncanny how similar I was to the mysterious Nova Song, and how similar the woman I saw outside the school looked to the woman I saw on the night of my regeneration. I couldn’t help but think that I was somehow connected to these people, that these were people I may have known in a past life, which should be impossible, since I’ve only lived one life prior to my regeneration. I was starting to question where I truly came from, and for some reason I didn’t think I had physically come from the couple I was currently sitting at the dinner table with—the people who couldn’t regenerate at all, and also the people I physically looked nothing like.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” my mom—or who I _believed_ to be my mom—asked to break the long silence between the three of us. “You haven’t touched your food. Most nights you eat like a horse.”

“She’s probably still traumatized by what happened at school today,” her spouse replied indignantly with a mouthful of steak. “Just leave her alone.”

A part of me was still traumatized, but at this point I was more concerned about my true identity and whose parents I truly belonged to.

My guardian shook her head. “No, there’s obviously something bothering her.” She then turned to me with a kind expression on her face, the face I loved my whole life but was now starting to question whether that love was genuine. “Sweetie, it’s okay, you can tell us. What’s on your mind?”

I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “Am I really your daughter?”

“What? Of course you are! Why would you say something like that?” my guardian said as if it would be insane to think I wasn’t, which, for all I knew, _wasn’t_ insane and was, in fact, actually true.

I sighed. “It’s just…I get the feeling I’m not.”

“Why?” my other guardian said in a suspicious tone. “Did the man say that you weren’t?”

“Kind of,” I replied timidly. “I mean, I’m not sure if the guy was really after me; he said he was after some girl named Nova Song. Do you guys know anyone with that name?”

I glanced between my guardians and noticed the anxious looks on their faces, like they were quite familiar with the name but didn’t want to admit that they were. My whole life, I had the sense that they knew things about my true origins, and they always seemed to feel uncomfortable and immediately changed the subject whenever I asked. At this point in my life, I was tired of the secrets being kept from me. 

“Please!” I begged. “I need to know! Is she, like, my sister, or something?”

“W-Why do you say that?” the woman who raised me stuttered softly, almost at a volume I couldn’t hear.

“Because the guy said she could regenerate…just like _me_ ,” I explained, my voice becoming more and more desperate, even to my own ears. “He said she was a ‘Time Lord,’ whatever that is. He also said that the parents she currently lived with were not her real parents, that she was actually adopted, and I’m honestly getting the sense that _I_ am the same way…that you guys are not _my_ real parents. I mean, think about it. All my life, people have said I don’t look anything like you guys, and honestly I _don’t_. I never looked anything like you guys before I regenerated, and I still don’t look anything like you guys now. Not only that, I am the only one in the entire family that can regenerate. This could only mean one thing… I am _not_ your real daughter. You’re not my real family. You had to have adopted me.”

After I finished speaking, I felt my hearts pounding rapidly in my chest out of anxiousness, and from the shocked looks on my guardians’ faces, I figured their single hearts must have been pounding just as fast. “I’m right…aren’t I?” I found myself asking after not receiving an immediate response from either of them.

My mother-guardian sighed. “You were always too clever for your age, Sydney.” She then glanced at my father-guardian, who nodded his approval, but approval of what, I had no idea. She then left the dinner table and walked heavily into their bedroom.

When my mother-guardian didn’t immediately come back out, I asked my father-guardian, “What’s she doing?”

“She’s going to get the adoption papers,” he replied with a heavy sigh, but also one that sounded like he was having trouble fighting back tears.

“Adoption papers?” I exclaimed incredulously. “So it’s true? I _am_ adopted?”

He shushed me. “Just wait until she gets back. She’ll explain everything to you.”

My mother-guardian came back two minutes later with a small folder in her hand. “It’s time we showed you the truth,” she said as she sat back down at her place at the table and set the folder next to my untouched dinner plate. “These are your adoption papers. Go on and look through them.”

I did as she requested and opened the folder that was filled with several sheets of paper. One of the papers included my birth certificate. The date of birth read ‘ _February 11, 1997_ ,’ but when I glanced at the date of my adoption, it read ‘ _February 15, 1997_ ,’ which was four days after my birth; although I wasn’t sure if this was accurate. When I asked about my birth date, my guardians said it was an estimated birth date and not my official birth date, because they didn’t truly know when exactly I was born. I skimmed through the other information listed in the papers, and everything seemed to check out…all except one thing: any and all information about my biological parents.

“In the section about my biological parents,” I said as I pointed through the section on the paper, “pretty much all of the things there are listed as ‘Unknown’ or ‘Not available.’ Why is that?”

“They…didn’t want to be identified,” my mother-guardian replied. “It’s for your own safety.”

“My safety?” I asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?” I then paused. How could they know that was what my bio-parents wanted to be listed as? That wouldn’t have made any sense for them to know such things… _Unless_ … “Wait! If you know they didn’t want to be identified, you must’ve met them in person. How could they have physically given me to you guys if you hadn’t?”

My mother-guardian nodded with a heavy sigh. “You’re right, we did meet your biological parents in person…or, at least, we got to properly meet _one_ of them.”

“Which one?” I asked curiously. “My father?”

My mother-guardian shook her head. “No. Your father decided to watch from afar. It was your mother that handed you over to us.”

“She was a beautiful woman,” my father-guardian explained. “Smart, had a British accent, and _massively_ curly hair. I swear, I’ve never seen so much hair on a woman’s head before.”

 _Curly hair_ , I thought, _just like the two women from the school earlier today and from the night of my regeneration_. And now _this_ big revelation that my biological mother had massively curly hair as well. All of this seemed like more proof that the two curly-haired women from my past were my biological mother both times.

But I still wanted to know about my other side…my _father’s_ side. “And…what about my father?” I asked.

“Oh, he was quite the looker too,” my mother-guardian said “at least what we saw of him. He didn’t stick around long, probably because he couldn’t bear to see his daughter go.”

That last statement didn’t make much sense to me. If my biological parents didn’t want to see me go, then why did they give me up?

“Are you sure he didn’t stick around because he was relieved to get rid of me?” I asked, thinking this would’ve made more sense. When most biological parents gave their children up for adoption, as horrible as it sounded, they wanted to wipe their children out of their family for good, and only once in a blue moon would they have given their children up to be protected from someone dangerous. This thought made me wonder why I was truly given up for adoption not long after my birth.

“No, of course not!” my mother-guardian shook her head. “He loved you dearly. In fact, he never wanted to give you up, nor your mother…but they had to.”

“Why?” I asked, puzzled.

“Again, it was for your own safety,” my father-guardian answered in an apologetic tone, “to protect you.”

“From what?” I asked. In that moment, I felt like that so-called ‘blue moon’ had risen over my head.

My mother-guardian glanced at my father-guardian and released a heavy sigh from her lungs. “You know those bad guys you see in movies and read in your favorite comics, the ones that get defeated by the superhero or crime-fighter in the story?” After I nodded, she continued, “Well, your biological parents were kind of like those crime-fighters in your favorite stories. They spent their entire lives fighting the bad guys…or, in this case, the aliens that invade our planet, especially in the big cities, like London and New York City. After your parents had you, the bad guys somehow found out about your birth and started fighting with double force; in other words, they started using enough force to try to kill your parents, including you. Your parents couldn’t bear to lose you to their enemies, so they were forced to give you up for adoption. They contacted us, knowing we were looking to adopt a baby girl, so they trusted you to us. It was the only way to protect you.” She sighed as though fighting back tears. “Also, you never knew this, but I can’t have kids. We tried everything we could. That was why we were looking to adopt a child.”

“So…my parents gave me up to protect me from their enemies, who were trying to kill me?” I asked for clarification, although I couldn’t figure out how to believe any of this. I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill _me_? As far as I knew, I wasn’t anyone special, like a well-known celebrity, or the President of the United States, or whatever. I may have had supernatural abilities that seemed literally out of this world, but despite all of that, I felt like I was just like everybody else, that I was just as _human_ as everybody else. It seemed impossible to think of myself as anything that wasn’t human.

“Yes,” my father-guardian nodded, “but not every enemy wanted you dead. Some wanted to kill you, but others wanted you for other reasons. Others wanted to kidnap you and use you for your powers against your own parents.”

“So they wanted to turn me into some sort of assassin to kill my own parents?” I asked incredulously. Why would I want to kill anyone, let alone my own parents? I never viewed myself as a fighter, and I had never planned to become one in the future either.

“Yes,” my father-guardian nodded again, “and use your powers to do it.”

“That’s crazy!” I exclaimed. “I don’t even know my bio-parents, let alone their names or even what they look like.”

My father-guardian glanced to his wife as if looking for permission to say the next thing on his mind. “Should we tell her about them, at least their names?” he asked her.

“Go ahead,” she nodded her approval.

My father-guardian turned to me and said, “We can tell you this much… Your mother’s name was River.”

 _River_ , I thought. _That’s the same name as the woman that saved the school from the crazy man._ Thinking of her, I asked curiously but also timidly, as I had no idea how my guardians would react, “Was her last name ‘Song,’ by any chance?”

My father-guardian paused as if in shock. “Um… _yes_ , I believe it was, now that I remember it! How did you know?”

Feeling a bit scared to tell them about my theory of the connection between the woman that saved the school and the woman that appeared on the night of my regeneration, I said instead, “I just wondered. There was a woman that saved us from the man at the school. He knew her and identified her as River Song. Also, the girl the man was after, Nova—her last name was ‘Song’ as well. I wondered if Nova and River were related, that Nova was River’s daughter. But you just now said my bio-mother’s name was also River Song. Could they be the same woman, since they share the same name?”

At this point, my guardians glanced at each other strangely, like I was some kind of detective, and they were criminals that had been caught and were now obligated to confess all of their actions and secrets to me. I honestly found this a little unsettling, as it may have been true that they had many more secrets that they had yet to share with me that were not included in the folder.

Instead of spilling, my mother-guardian abruptly shook her head and said, “We don’t know.”

I, however, refused to continue my life of not knowing the truth of where I truly came from. “Because if so,” I continued, “maybe Nova _is_ my sister…or _was_. What about my father? Who was he?”

My mother-guardian shook her head. “We don’t know who Nova might be.” _Liar_ , I couldn’t help thinking in my head. “As for your father, he only said he was a ‘Doctor,’ nothing more.” She then corrected herself. "Or rather, your _mother_ said so, as your father had slipped away before he had the opportunity to introduce himself."

 _A doctor?_ I thought. _Anyone could be a doctor._ Although, I couldn’t help but notice that my mother-guardian said the title with a capital ‘D,’ like it was more than just a title, like it was a _name_ as well. “He didn’t—I mean, my _mother_ didn’t—give a name, or anything, with it?” I asked.

“Nope,” she shook her head, “she said that was it—just ‘The Doctor.’”

“He was strange,” my father-guardian said with a frown, like he was remembering what the man looked like. “He didn’t look like a doctor. He looked more like a history professor to me, with his old-fashioned tweed jacket, bow tie, and floppy hair. Strangely enough, he looked twenty years younger than your mother— _River_.”

My mother-guardian nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she reminded me of that woman from that old movie; what was her name—Mrs. Robinson?”

My father-guardian laughed, then said, “One thing I found the strangest about your father was his _eyes_ —those deep green eyes, like emeralds in a storm. They looked so much older, like they’d seen a thousand years’ worth of life, despite his youthful face. Your eyes, Sydney, are just like his.”

I was in disbelief at this. “Really?” I said in amazement. “That’s funny, because people have said the exact same thing about my eyes, how they look so much older than the rest of me. I must get that from my father.”

“You get your pretty looks from your mother,” my mother-guardian said with a smile.

“From you?” I felt the need to ask. _Or was she talking about…?_

She shook her head. “No. From your _real_ mother, River.”

“Don’t call her that,” I demanded, suddenly feeling a surge of anger flood both hearts in unison without really knowing why.

“What?” my mother-guardian asked, puzzled.

“Don’t call my biological parents my ‘real’ parents,” I clarified. “They’re _not_. They may be my parents by blood, but they’re not my _real_ parents. _You guys_ are my real parents. You’ve loved and raised me as your own, and I’ve always felt that love. And from the stories you told me, it sounds like my blood-parents didn’t get to love me properly like they’d wanted to because of their dangerous lives, so I never felt real love from them…or at least not _enough_ love. As far as I’m concerned, they never truly loved me, because they were spending too much time worrying about getting killed by their enemies. I never had real proof that they loved me, and not just because I was too young to understand such things; I mean, I was just a newborn at the time. _You guys_ have always been my true parents and have shown me true love, and I will never stop loving you, no matter where I truly come from.”

I truly meant what I said, _every word_. I couldn’t help but think that was the real reason why my biological parents, this ‘Doctor’ and River Song, gave me up—that they didn’t have time to even love me because they were too busy worrying about getting wiped out by their enemies, whoever they were. Who knew where I would be if they had not decided to give me up? Would I even be happy with them? Honestly, I didn’t think I would be happy having to spend my whole life on the run from people who wanted me dead.

Then again, if it was true my biological parents didn’t truly want to give me up in the first place, wherever they were right now—here’s assuming they were even still alive—did they even miss me? Were they even thinking about me at all? If they had even an ounce of love toward me, would they think to call and check up on me, if they could? Would they eventually come back for me so I could meet them properly?

To be honest, I didn’t know what I wanted them to do—to come back for me, or stay away. I didn’t like the idea of being constantly hunted by people who wanted to kill me, but a part of me found the idea exhilarating, like it would be a glorious adventure. On one hand, if I was truly to be protected from dangerous people like the crazy man in the school, it would be better for my biological parents to stay away from me, especially if they tended to attract those dangers. On the other hand, if I were to actually meet my bio-parents, it could be the start of a grand adventure, which was something I longed for. I often dreamed about travelling around the world and discovering new and impossible things, and if this was something my bio-parents did on a daily basis, I wanted to be a part of it—at least, I wanted it for _myself_.

Near tears, my mother-guardian—no, my _mother_ —gathered me in her arms. “Aw, Sydney. You will always be our baby girl.”

“And _we_ will never stop loving _you_ ,” my father added as he wrapped his own arms around us both.

After a few minutes, I suddenly realized something. “So, this was why you wanted me to keep my powers hidden?” I asked. “So none of my bio-parents’ enemies would come after them? So they wouldn’t come after _me_?”

My mother nodded. “Yes. We figured that was why that intruder came to your school. He must’ve somehow sensed your energy from your regeneration when you were four and had come after it like a moth to a flame.”

“Or he must’ve sensed the energy much more recently,” my father added, “because there is no way the sense would've lasted three years, and he’d chased after it nonstop for that long.” He glanced suspiciously at me. “Did you use your powers at any time after your regeneration, Sydney?”

I suddenly remembered a few days ago, when I was in my room doing my homework, and I had suddenly given myself a paper cut and drawn blood. I remembered how freaked out I was when I’d noticed that my blood color was a bright orange color instead of the typical dark red color of human blood. In any case, I felt too lazy to get up and properly wash the wound in the sink, so instead, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to sacrifice a bit of regeneration energy to heal the cut, despite knowing I wasn’t supposed to use my abilities (I always thought it was unfair to have these supernatural abilities and never be allowed to use them). I concentrated on the wound and made the cut glow gold for a few seconds. Once the glow faded, the cut was completely gone; it didn’t even leave behind a scar. Now, from the story my ( _foster_ ) parents just told me, I felt a surge of guilt rush through me, realizing that sacrificing my energy like that was a mistake, as it may have somehow attracted the crazy man to our town, and then our school. This realization made me think that the crazy man was possibly one of my biological parents’ enemies sent out to kidnap me or kill me.

_She will be ours! One day!_

_Oops._

Not wanting my parents to see my guilt, I lied, saying, “I don’t think so. I mean, I would know if I did, right?”

“I suppose,” my father said in a somewhat doubtful tone, which increased my guilt a bit more. “Perhaps your regeneration isn’t something you can control, and it only appears if you’re sick, gravely injured, or dying. But you’ve never been sick over the past few years, and you’ve been very careful not to injure yourself, so perhaps we’re just overthinking things.”

This wasn’t true. I had full control of my regeneration energy, hence why I used it to heal the paper cut that day. I felt bad for lying to my parents, the people who raised me and said they would never stop loving me, even if I were not entirely human. I now understood the dangers of using my abilities, but I didn’t understand how these dangers could be attracted to my energy every time I used it. It was like my parents were saying that these ‘enemies’ weren’t human, that they were from a world outside our atmosphere, and some of them had a strong sense of smell, like a predator sniffing out its prey. Just this thought sent a shiver up my spine, knowing I was the ‘prey’ in this scenario.

“You probably are,” I said with a sigh, still feeling my guilt clinging tightly to me.

“Perhaps the man was simply crazy and just felt the need to terrorize the school, but he was never intending to harm or kidnap anyone, especially you,” my father continued, this time in a no-big-deal tone, like he truly was just overthinking things, and there was really nothing to worry about; but I knew better, and I learned a valuable lesson from this: I should never use my abilities unless I absolutely have to.

“Yeah, probably,” I agreed with a sigh. Maybe that was all that it really came down to: that they were just being overprotective without meaning to be. None of this had anything to do with my ‘non-humanness;’ they were just afraid for the safety of their adopted daughter. That crazy man was simply that—just crazy. He broke into the school with the delusion that some girl he used to know (or possibly never existed at all) attended the school, and he just wanted to see her. He was never intending to harm anyone, certainly not me. Although, none of this explained how this other girl the man was after, Nova—if she even existed—had the same regeneration ability as me; but then again, maybe I was just overthinking things as well, or I had just imagined the whole thing.

Either way, I guessed my parents couldn’t change their minds to have me go back to school for the rest of the week, no matter how anxious they were to having me safe in their arms. In any case, despite the terrifying experience that I had that day, there were two good things that came out of it. The first was that despite being adopted, I lived with people that actually cared for me and were happy to call me their daughter, even when I wasn’t their daughter by blood. Even if my blood-parents didn’t truly love me, I was perfectly happy with what I got here with my foster parents, who I would always call my ‘real’ parents. 

The second was that I would have a six-day weekend away from school.


	5. Chapter 4: Friendly Friend Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after the school intruder incident, Nova (Sydney) dreams about her biological parents. During 'house-arrest,' she tries researching her bio-parents, but digs up nothing (no surprise to her). Eventually, she is allowed to visit her best friend Hazel, who Nova reveals about her adoption and possible 'superpowers.' How will Hazel take to the news?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted in a while. This semester has been a major project-filled one, and I haven't been able to write anything else that hasn't been related to Python and Javascript. This may continue through til Christmas.
> 
> Anyway, here is a new chapter. I hope the wait was well worth it.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

That same night, I had a dream.

The first thing I remembered about it was complete darkness before the feeling of strong but gentle arms wrapped themselves around me and held me against a soft surface that pulsed with a light beat. _Thump-thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump-thump_ , went the beat, like an unnatural heartbeat…

Like the beat of _two_ hearts, which was a beat I was quite familiar with, but one I had never thought would come from anywhere (or anyone) else besides my own chest.

I immediately opened my eyes, and upon opening them, I noticed that everything seemed a bit blurry, like the vision one got when they first woke after a long slumber. Through the blurry haze, I noticed that I was being held against a person’s chest that was covered in a solid white fabric, with large strips of thick brown fuzzier fabric on the left and right that was heavily striped and reminded me of the stripes of a zebra, only brown instead of black. Looking further up, I saw what looked like a large burgundy-red butterfly fixed to the collar of the white fabric. I tried to reach up to touch the butterfly, but I realized that my arms were stuck in place under the thick white blanket I was swathed in.

I realized immediately after that this version of me wasn’t my seven-year-old self; it was, in fact, my infant self. Of course, I couldn’t do anything but watch the scene play out in front of my infant eyes, but fortunately I didn’t feel like I was in any physical danger; this was just a dream, after all…

 _Or was it?_ I wondered.

Suddenly, the butterfly started moving towards me, and along with it a face—the youthful face of a man. The man seemed to have a very prominent chin, a sharp nose, floppy brown hair, pale skin, and dark, deep-set green eyes—green eyes that looked identical to my own. I instantly remembered my father mentioning the fact that I shared my biological father’s eyes, and looking at the eyes of this mysterious man in front of me, I knew this had to be him—my biological father himself…the Doctor. 

The man leaned down further and gently pressed his lips to my forehead, and I—well, my infant self, anyway—subconsciously found myself leaning into his touch, despite him being nothing but a complete stranger to me. I had never seen this man’s face before, but at the same time I felt like this was a face I knew well…or at least _should’ve_ known, if not for the fact that this was possibly the man who gave me up all those years ago. 

He didn’t kiss me right then, so much as just caressed my forehead with his lips, but there was something about his lips that seemed off. They felt cold and wet, like he’d been crying, and when I looked up momentarily to see his ancient-but-young-looking eyes misty with tears, my suspicions were confirmed.

“Oh, Nova,” he whispered in a British accent that sounded so ancient and forever, “I wish it never had to be this way, but it is the only way to keep you safe. To keep you safe from _them_ …from _me_.” The instant he said ‘me,’ a stream of tears ran down his cheeks and dripped off of his pointy chin and splashed down on my blanket. I felt him cradling me closer to his chest like a vise, not enough where I felt like I was being asphyxiated but enough for me to feel the emotions flooding through him, tearing him apart piece-by-piece. These were the words of a man who had experienced great loss throughout his entire life, and now he was seemingly about to experience it again…with me.

If I were older, I would’ve felt the need to wrap my arms around him and comfort him—while at the same time trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation, as I had no idea who this man was besides being a complete stranger from my past—but I was just an infant in this body, in this dream, and had no comprehension of the situation whatsoever, so I had no choice but to go along with it. He held me like that for what felt like several minutes; although, in real life, it may not have been much time at all.

He eventually straightened up and continued walking to wherever he was taking me to—the entire time, he was walking with me in his arms to some destination; although I had no idea where, as I could only see a blurry hallway in which I could hear a gentle hum, like that of a machine—despite the tears still trickling down his cheeks.

My bio-father eventually arrived to a place where the hallway seemed to open up into a much larger space where the mechanical humming sound seemed to emanate from, as well as a harsh scraping sound like a house-key scraping along the strings of an old piano, and the lights seemed incredibly bright. He walked down a set of stairs and stopped at a strange-looking column in the center of the room that reached up to the ceiling. I heard the clicking and clacking of what sounded like the pushing and pulling of levers and switches, like something from the console of a steam engine. I heard my bio-father say something, and then the vague sound of a female answered something back, but the voices sounded muffled to my infant ears, like listening through a pair of earmuffs.

A few moments later, my bio-father bent down to me again, and this time I noticed that the red butterfly fixed to his neck was actually a bow tie. I remembered my foster father mentioning that my bio-father wore a bow tie (as well as a tweed jacket, which was the fuzzy striped fabric he was wearing over his solid white button-down shirt) on the night I was adopted; and based on the fact that this was the exact clothing my bio-father was wearing at this very moment, and also the fact that he was crying as though he didn’t want to lose me, to give me up to another family, I somehow knew this was that night.

“I love you, Nova Susan Song,” he whispered, this time brushing his tearstained cheek against my forehead, “now and forever, ‘til the end of Time.” I saw another tear escape his eyelashes, and this time I felt it fall on my tiny cheek, but I was unable to brush it away.

He then handed me off to another person, who immediately wrapped their arms around me. I looked up and saw, yet again, the familiar large curls of the woman I had seen twice before (at least in real life)—River Song, my biological mother. She bent down to me in the same way as my biological father and kissed my forehead on the exact same place.

“I, too, shall love you ‘til the end of Time, my sweet,” she whispered. “We shall be together again… Someday.” She surprisingly, unlike my father, had more control over her tears; although, I could still see them fogging up her slightly brighter green eyes. She then started carrying me away from my father, who watched forlornly next to the strange column with tearful eyes.

Unfortunately, that was all I could remember of the dream after I had woken up the next morning, back in my seven-year-old, two-hearted body (in the dream, I felt like I only had one heart). At this point in my life, I had started to realize that I didn’t need as much sleep as most humans. Normally, humans only needed six to nine hours every night, but for me, I only needed the equivalent of a cat nap (about three to four hours) a few nights a week. Although, this night, after the crazy day with the school intruder, I managed to sleep through the entire night for seven hours straight, luckily (surprisingly) without nightmares of the experience. 

After I woke up, I couldn’t help smiling. That dream felt so calm, and nothing whatsoever like the school intruder incident, but it also felt so real, like it wasn’t really a dream but actually a _memory_. Before the dream, I could hardly remember anything about my life, much less my adoption, and that must’ve been the event I had dreamt about—or rather the memory that had flashed before my closed eyelids. When I first saw the curly-haired woman on the night I regenerated, I somehow knew she was familiar to me, and now I understood why: she was there on the night of my adoption. Although, I couldn’t remember anything after my biological mother had carried me away from my biological father at the end of the dream, but my guess was that she met with my soon-to-be foster parents, explained about the ‘regeneration and two hearts’ thing and the dangers of using my abilities, handed me off to them, and then immediately left without another word.

Although, seeing my biological father there was a bit strange. At school, the intruder claimed that he was evil, but in the dream— _memory_ —there was nothing ‘evil’ about him; in fact, he seemed the total opposite. In the dream, he looked exactly like the typical father one would expect, caring and loving toward his loved ones. I remembered how sad he looked when he had talked about what he was doing was going to keep me safe, like he truly didn’t want to give me up. Although, he’d also said that he was doing this to protect me from ‘them,’ as well as himself, whatever he meant by that. Who was ‘they,’ and why did he want to protect me from _himself_ as well? What was it about himself that he felt was so wrong, that he felt it was too dangerous for me to be around him? I remembered the intruder saying that my biological father had destroyed his own home world, as well as escaping an inescapable prison. He said that as if my father was some genocidal maniac that should be locked up in isolation from the rest of the universe, and maybe that was what the inescapable prison was specifically designed for; but apparently my father had broken out anyway, so obviously the prison wasn’t as ‘inescapable’ as everyone thought. Just this thought made me suddenly wonder whether the kind man I saw in my dream/memory that was cradling my infant body and telling me that he would love me “‘til the end of Time” was just a façade to mask his true dark persona. If this was truly the case, I wondered why he called himself ‘Doctor.’

I also remembered my bio-father calling me ‘Nova,’ as if that was truly my name instead of ‘Sydney.’ Because I had heard the name so many times earlier that day, it must’ve gotten stuck in my head and imbedded itself into my subconscious. Either that, or, if it was true that this was indeed an old memory, maybe there was more to the name than met the eye. If it was true that Nova was really my sister, and we shared the same secret to not being human, maybe there was a connection between us, after all; in which case, we could literally connect with each other, like with telepathy or something. This dream could’ve just been me subconsciously connecting with Nova’s mind, and I’d seen her memory from when she was a baby and still living with her— _our_ —biological parents before she was adopted to another family (albeit totally separate from mine). I wondered if she was even aware that I had somehow invaded her mind at the time.

Then again, maybe I was just being ridiculous _. Two minds using telepathy to connect with each other? Grow up, Sydney_ , I thought; _that doesn’t exist, except in Sci-Fi movies._

In any case, if Nova was still alive—and _a real person_ —I wished there was a way to physically get in contact with her; it’d be nice to know her side of the story. I wondered if she knew a lot about our ancestry, including where we originally came from. Then again, if she was also given up to be protected from whatever danger our bio-dad was referring to—which, strangely, also included himself—the chances of us physically meeting was slim to none. 

_Whatever_ , I thought to myself with the shake of my head, _I’m not going to give up that easily. If my foster parents won’t tell me anything about my true origins, I’ll just find them out for myself… Somehow_.

Unfortunately, the Internet got me nowhere. Over the next few days— _what else is there to do when you’re stuck in house-arrest for an entire week?_ I thought—I tried looking up things to do with ‘regenerating humans,’ ‘two-hearted humans,’ ‘Time Lords,’ ‘River Song,’ ‘Nova Song,’ ‘The Doctor (not the physician),’ and even a few combinations of some of them, and, of course…zip, zilch, bupkis, nada, goose egg—literally any other word or phrase meaning ‘absolutely nothing.’ I mean, I got several results to do with everything, but they were nothing that related to anything I was looking for. This was to be expected, seeing as I didn’t truly know what specifically I was looking for to begin with. _Who ever heard of a human changing bodies at will, or even a human with two hearts?_ I thought. Since these things weren’t common, maybe that was why they didn’t appear on the Internet. _Typical_. And, of course, there are _millions_ of River Songs, Nova Songs, and Doctors in the world, and literally _any_ one of those people could be my long-lost bio-parents and sister, so there was really no way of knowing which were the right ones.

 _Ugh_ , I groaned, _who knew Internet-searching could be so freaking hard_.

Eventually, I decided to give up on the Internet-searching—well, maybe not _completely_ give up, but rather take a break for a while. I figured that while I gradually grew older, my foster parents would reveal something new about my true origins and identity; they did say shortly after my regeneration that I wasn’t yet old enough to know of such things. Maybe once I ‘came of age,’ so to speak, they would reveal everything to me. The problem was, I didn’t know when exactly that time would come.

“ _There are things in this world that children of your age shouldn’t need to know just yet,_ ” Dr. D’s voice echoed in my mind. “ _I understand life can be hard when you have to wait to become a certain age before you can learn something, but that’s just the way it is, and unfortunately we can’t do anything about it except to wait._ ”

 _I guess I’ll just have to wait a little bit longer_ , I thought dismally to myself, _however long that’s going to take…if ever that time would come_.

Toward the end of my house-arrest—and after much persuasion to my highly protective foster parents—I was finally allowed to leave the house and visit my best friend, who I promised I would explain everything about the intruder incident to. Of course, I had to be escorted there, as they didn’t feel comfortable with me being on my own outside the house as of yet. It was kind of annoying, but I didn’t want to upset them, especially after I had lied to them about using my abilities when I wasn’t supposed to, which I still felt highly guilty about; the experience could’ve been much worse, had that crazy psycho not been alone, nor had the curly-haired woman not appeared to save us when she did. I still couldn’t believe how fortunate we all were to living another day. 

At least my parents didn’t stick around at my friend’s house while I was there, although they did insist on me calling them so they could escort me home. _Ugh, really?_ I thought with a roll of my eyes before they left me with Hazel. If I was born normal, I wouldn’t have to deal with this overprotectiveness.

 _Stupid regeneration_ , I thought angrily, _why did you have to ruin my life like this, huh?_

In any case, I was glad to be out of the house again. It felt like the equivalent of being let out of prison—not that I did anything wrong to deserve to be put in prison; I doubted being born a non-human was considered a crime on this planet, but then again, who really knew? 

Hazel and I spent hours on end, talking about the school intruder incident that happened last Monday. Hazel talked about how the majority of the kids in our grade had a theory that the crazy man was after me, since I had been gone all week. It made sense, considering that my parents had insisted on me never leaving the house until they were satisfied that the crazy man was gone for good. I told her this was true, but I wasn’t entirely sure whether the man was after me or not, but it was a theory of mine, considering how my parents acted when they first picked me up.

The conversation then switched to the topic of my adoption, which I had decided to reveal to Hazel. It wasn’t as big of a secret as my regenerative abilities and two hearts, but it was pretty darn close.

The conversation was something like this:

“So it’s true?” Hazel exclaimed after I had shared the secret to her. “You really are adopted?”

I nodded. “Yeah. My parents—or rather my _foster_ parents—told me this later that same day over dinner. I always knew I looked nothing like them my whole life, and now it all makes sense. They’re not my real parents.”

“But you said you always sensed that they adopted you,” Hazel said with a puzzled frown.

“Yeah, I just never thought it’d actually be true,” I admitted. “I mean, yeah, I look completely different from them, but at the same time I didn’t want to believe that I was from…somewhere else. You know what I mean?”

I wasn’t sure if Hazel would understand what I meant by being from ‘somewhere else,’ as in, somewhere else that wasn’t anywhere on Earth. For all I knew, I could’ve well been born on another planet.

Surprisingly, she did seem to understand. “Yeah, totally,” she said. “I mean, if I found out I was adopted, I don’t think I could handle the idea of coming from somewhere else that wasn’t my hometown, or people that aren’t the people I call my parents. It’d be way too complicated.”

“Right!” I exclaimed in agreement. “That’s exactly how I feel right now. I mean, if I’m not from here, then where exactly am I from?”

“Do you know?” Hazel wondered. “I mean, where you’re originally from?”

I shook my head. “Nope.” Then I remembered how my bio-parents sounded in my dream, and I thought better. “Well, maybe. My foster parents said both my bio-parents were British, so maybe I’m originally from England, which would be awesome, because I’ve always wanted to visit England.”

“Me too,” Hazel replied. “But you know, most of the so-called ‘alien invasions’ happen there. I wouldn’t want to visit, or even live, in a place where I could be easily abducted by crazy aliens.”

“Me neither,” I agreed, “but perhaps we could visit during a time when the alien invasions are less frequent.”

“Less…frequent?” Hazel asked, puzzled.

I had to shake my head. I kept forgetting that she didn’t have quite the same vocabulary as I did, nor did anyone else in our grade.

 _She doesn’t know as many big words as you, Sydney_ , I thought to myself. _Talk to Haze as if she is seven, not seventeen._

“It means they could possibly happen less often in the future than they do today,” I clarified.

“Ah,” she nodded. Then she shook her head. “You and your big words. No wonder you’re smarter than everyone else in our grade. Even though you’re only in second grade, you seem to have the mind of a high schooler, or even college student.”

I had to shrug at this statement. “All these words just come naturally to me. Plus, I do a lot of reading.” _Or, because of my non-humanness, my amount of knowledge is way beyond that of a normal human_ , I thought but didn’t say out loud.

“Well, it seems you read a lot of big books,” Hazel sighed, “like something from Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare.”

“Actually, I’ve read a bit of Shakespeare,” I said enthusiastically. “It took me a while to understand the language, but I eventually got the hang of it. _Hamlet_ is one of my absolute favorites. ‘ _To be or not to be_.’” I laughed after reciting the famous quote in a British accent, and Hazel laughed to, albeit not as enthusiastically.

“So, going back on your adoption,” she said to backtrack the convo to our previous subject, “did your parents—sorry, _foster_ parents—tell you anything about your biological parents; like their names, their jobs, where they live, that kind of thing?”

I nodded. “Yeah, they told me a little. My biological mother’s name is River Song, which is, ironically, the exact same name as the woman that saved us from the school intruder last Monday.”

Hazel nodded as well. “Yeah, I remember that. It’s so weird that your biological mother shares the exact same name as her. Do you think they could be the same person?”

“I thought so at first, but now I’m not so sure,” I said honestly. “I kind of doubt it. It’d be too much of a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Hazel asked with a puzzled frown.

“I think it would be very unlikely if the woman that saved us from the intruder was _also_ my biological mother at the same time,” I explained. “If my biological mother and I have never met since my birth, I don’t understand how she would know where I live and where I go to school. Not to mention knowing exactly the right time to show up to save us from the intruder.”

“Yeah, that does seem very strange,” Hazel nodded in agreement. “It was like she somehow knew exactly what was going to happen and knew when exactly to show up.”

“Or she somehow sensed the danger, either before it happened or as it was happening, and immediately came running to our rescue,” I added my own thoughts. 

“I can’t imagine what would’ve happened to us if she hadn’t shown up when she did,” Hazel said in a shuddering voice. “We’d probably be dead.”

“Yeah, probably,” I nodded in response.

Actually, the reality was that Hazel and everybody else would be dead, but I, on the other hand, would probably be fine, as I had my regeneration energy to save me. Then again, for all I knew, maybe the regeneration from when I was four was just a one-time thing; in which case, I was never going to be able to regenerate again even in my later life. I suddenly remembered the intruder saying that he wasn’t truly certain how many regenerations I had, so for all we knew, that could’ve been the only time. To be honest, I didn’t want to find out whether I had more regenerations or not; the first time was excruciating enough.

“So what about your father?” Hazel asked to bring my mind back to the present. “Know anything about him?”

I nodded again. “Yeah, a bit. My biological father’s name… It’s kind of a weird one; it’s more of a title. My foster parents—or rather my bio-mom—said he called himself ‘the Doctor.’”

“Doctor who?” Hazel asked curiously.

I sighed and shook my head. “I guess that’s the big question, isn’t it? I don’t know. Not even my foster parents know…or, at least I think they don’t. Maybe if I ever meet my biological father, I’ll ask him. Although, that might be difficult. There are a lot of men in the world that have floppy hair and wear bow ties and tweed jackets.”

Hazel frowned. “Um, have you been taking crazy pills, Syd? _No one_ wears tweed jackets anymore, certainly not with a bow tie. Those jackets are, like, _ancient_.”

“No, they’re not,” I said defensively, “they’re only, like, two centuries old.”

“Uh, that’s ancient!” she said in an obvious tone.

I shrugged. “Well, I doubt my biological father wears tweed jackets all the time. He just happened to be wearing one on the night of my adoption; at least, I was told that.” _And saw that in a dream_ , I thought but didn’t say. “I don’t know what else he wears, and honestly I don’t care. It’s not like he’ll actually come back for me. I mean, he was probably the one that gave me up to begin with.”

“But you said your foster parents said he loved you and _didn’t_ want to give you up,” Hazel pointed out. “He only just did it to protect you from his enemies who wanted to kill you.”

I shook my head sadly. “Yeah, well, I don’t think that was really the case. I think my foster parents just said that to protect my feelings. Who knows what my biological parents’ true intentions were for me, but I honestly don’t care. The bottom line is that I am perfectly happy with my life here with my foster parents, with people who actually care about me and would never give me up for anything even if my life depended on it. They promised me that they would never stop loving me, and I believe them.”

“What about me?” Hazel asked curiously. “Are you perfectly happy with me? I mean as a friend?”

“Of course!” I said as if it would be insane to think otherwise. “I can’t imagine what my life would be like if we never became friends.”

“Probably boring,” Hazel snorted jokingly.

I laughed in agreement. “Yeah, totally!”

“What do you think your life would be like if your biological parents hadn’t given you up?” Hazel wondered. 

I let out a massive puff of air. “Much different from my life now, that’s for sure. It wouldn’t be normal.”

“What do you mean, your life wouldn’t be normal?” Hazel asked, puzzled.

I sighed. “Well, it wouldn’t be boring; just hectic. Hectic means things would be very chaotic in my life…or at least that’s what I think my life would be like. Depending on how many enemies my biological parents have made throughout their lives, and how much they want to wipe us off the face of the universe, my guess is that I would have to live my life constantly on the run; in other words, we’d be hopping around from place to place without being able to settle for longer than six months. Basically, building up friendships would be difficult, and possibly dangerous, because if my parents’ enemies found out the identities of all the friends I’ve made, I could get them in trouble…or worse, _killed_. If we met, I could get _you_ killed if my parents’ enemies found out about your friendship with me.”

For all I knew, this may have been true for me, even in real life. Maybe this was the real reason why my bio-parents gave me up—so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the insanity of constantly moving to new homes and never being able to develop close friendships wherever we went, knowing I would be putting them in danger by allowing them to be a part of my life. This thought made me wonder if this was what my bio-father meant when he said he was giving me up to protect me from himself; because he had considered himself a danger-magnet, he wanted to send me as far away from himself as possible so I, and anyone else I would meet throughout my life, didn’t have to experience all the dangerous things he was unintentionally attracting. Just this thought sent a shiver down my spine; having danger be attracted to you seemingly 24/7 sounded like a pretty sucky way to live, and it was certainly not an ideal way of life for me. Then again, maybe it’d be fun to live like that for a bit, like an adventure.

“Do you think that’s true for you now?” Hazel asked. “I mean, from everything you said just now, do you think any of that could be true for you in real life, even when you’re living with your foster parents?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. If it’s true my biological parents do have a lot of enemies who know about my existence, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were after me, even if I did absolutely nothing wrong. I honestly don’t think it’s fair to be hunted and killed just for being born. I mean, what could an _infant_ possibly do to anger someone that much?”

“Cry and poop?” Hazel snorted.

I scoffed. “Well, besides all of that. If the truth is that they’re mostly angry with my biological parents, they shouldn’t take it out on _me_ as well, just because I’m their daughter. If anyone is to blame for their anger, it’s my biological parents. Whatever it was that my parents did, it sure angered a lot of people to the point of them hating my parents, and therefore wanting my parents dead for what they did.”

Hazel raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No offense, but they don’t sound like very good parents. I mean, if angering people is part of their job, I wouldn’t want anything to do with them if they were my parents.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s part of their job. My foster parents said my biological parents actually save the world. Like, they stop the bad guys from taking over the world. It’s defeating the bad guys that make the bad guys angry, therefore they become my parents’ enemies.”

“Oh, so your biological parents are like superheroes?” Hazel asked.

I shrugged. “I guess. Or, at the very least, they’re crime-fighters. I don’t know if they have superpowers, like Superman or Captain Marvel, but that would be really cool.”

If my biological parents truly were superheroes from another world, that would explain where I got my regeneration abilities and two hearts. Maybe one day I would develop a pair of laser eyes as I got older, or make my body bullet-proof, or something. 

“Well, if you’re the daughter of real-life superheroes, that would mean you would have some kinds of superpowers too,” Hazel pointed out.

“Yeah,” I said a little hesitantly, knowing Hazel wasn’t that far away from the truth.

“Do you?” she asked as if to confirm her theory.

“Uh…I don’t know,” I lied. “I don’t think so…at least not right now. Or maybe when I’m older, they’ll…manifest, or something.”

“Manifest?” Hazel asked, puzzled, yet again, at my choice of advanced vocabulary.

“Like, they’ll just appear later in my life, when I come of a certain age,” I replied. “Who knows when that could happen? Maybe it won’t ever happen. Maybe I’ll just be powerless, like everybody else.”

Hazel abruptly shook her head. “Don’t think like that, Syd. Of course you’d want superpowers! I mean, who doesn’t?”

“True,” I said in agreement; although, my agreement wasn’t so enthusiastic as Hazel seemingly expected. The idea of having superpowers did sound very interesting, but I thought it would be better as an imaginary concept. Even though I possessed actual ‘superpowers’ that I barely knew the origins of, I recently found out the dangers of using them, and I realized that possessing the abilities wasn’t as exciting as I had originally hoped, especially since I was never allowed to use them. Apparently, every time I used them, even for healing minor injuries such as a measly paper cut, I attracted all kinds of dangers, such as the school intruder and possibly much worse. Because of my laziness and utter stupidity, the whole school had to suffer for my mistake, and I vowed myself that I would never ever do anything like that again voluntarily…at least, unless I absolutely had to use my abilities.

Still, I wondered how my best friend would react to my superpowers if I’d (hypothetically) revealed them to her. 

“Say I did have superpowers—uh, which I _don’t_ , but say I did,” I said hesitantly, “or, say I was from another planet—again, which I’m _not_ —how would you feel? Honestly?”

Based on Hazel’s answer, I would know whether to feel comfortable to share them or not.

“Honestly, I would think that would be the coolest thing ever!” Hazel said enthusiastically, and I had to feel a slight twinge of doubt at her declaration, as I didn’t really know how to believe it.

“What, if I had superpowers, or if I was from another planet?” I asked for clarification.

“Both,” Hazel admitted. “An alien superhero? How cool would that be? I mean, that’s what Superman is, right?”

I nodded. “Right, but Superman is fictional. I’m talking about _me_ , right here and right now in _real_ life. I was just wondering, if I were exactly like Superman, with superpowers from another world, would you still want to be my friend?” I subconsciously held my breath for her honest answer.

Luckily I didn’t have to hold my breath for that long. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a superhero, especially an _alien_ superhero?”

I smiled. “Oh, good! I’m glad you think so, because I…”

I suddenly had to bite my tongue at this statement. _Are you crazy, Sydney?_ A voice in my head exclaimed incredulously. _You can’t tell her your secret. Remember what happened with the school intruder? You practically brought him here when you stupidly used your regeneration energy to heal that paper cut, which very well would have healed on its own. If you tell her about your powers, she’ll want proof, which is something you cannot show, ever. She’ll suffer for your mistake if you bring danger to her house, and you’ll have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life_. 

This was true. I didn’t want to put her, or anyone else, in danger again, but at the same time I didn’t _not_ want to show off my abilities to her, especially when she was completely honest about how awesome it would be to be friends with a superhero. I wanted to be completely honest with her, but I also didn’t want to lose the only friend I had by not telling the truth. I guessed this was a spoiler I was going to have to save for another time—a time when both of us were in a life-death situation; not that I would wait for one of those to happen and then drag her into it all willy-nilly. No, I promised myself that I would never use my abilities unless I absolutely had to, and that was exactly what I was going to do.

Hazel paused. “Because you what?” she asked, puzzled.

I had to quick-think on my feet. “Uh… Sorry, I…just remembered that my parents—uh, _foster_ parents—recently signed me up for a martial arts class. I completely forgot to tell you. Whoops, silly me,” I said with an awkward laugh that sounded, even to my own ears, so obviously like a lie.

Actually, the ‘martial arts class’ thing wasn’t a lie; that part was one-hundred percent true. Earlier on in the ‘house-arrest,’ my foster parents said they would’ve felt much more comfortable if I’d learned to defend myself by joining a legit martial arts class. They admitted that when I got older, they wouldn’t be around anymore to ‘babysit’ me, so I needed to find ways to defend myself while I was living out on my own. A part of me agreed with this, but at the same time I thought they were being overprotective again… _as per usual_ , I thought. Then again, maybe this would be good for me in the near future; I would need some extra protection if something similar to the school intruder incident happened again. 

“A martial arts class?” Hazel said incredulously. “Why?”

I sighed with a shrug. “I guess because they were so paranoid that something similar to the intruder incident at our school might happen again, and they feel I should know how to protect myself, and others too. To be honest, I don’t think they’re wrong, because you never know when things like this might happen again, and that someone, like that woman, may not be around to save us next time.”

Hazel shrugged as well. “I mean…that does make sense. When do you start?”

“Next week,” I confirmed. “I’m gonna be training on Tuesdays and Thursdays every week after school. I’m pretty excited, but at the same time I’m wondering if it’s really necessary. I hope I’m not gonna be doing this just to ease my parents’ paranoia. Then again, maybe this’ll be good for me, so I can save other people as well as myself.”

“How long are you gonna be doing this?” Hazel asked curiously.

“Maybe until I’m as good as Jackie Chan?” I replied uncertainly. “Who knows? My parents say they want me to train for at least a year, but hopefully it’ll be less. Maybe this will come as naturally to me as everything else, and I’ll be a pro by Christmas.”

Hazel nodded. “Yeah, you do seem to learn things much more quickly than everyone else in our class. I wish I had a mind like yours. I feel like if this keeps up, you’ll eventually start being able to read minds.”

I had to laugh at this. “Yeah, that would be really cool.” For all I knew, this was yet _another_ superpower I would develop later in my life. Or maybe it was an ability I already had, but I just hadn’t discovered it yet. I guessed I had to wait to find out—at least until I would meet my biological parents in person. Who knew when that could happen…if ever?

 _First, regeneration, then telepathy_ , I mused, _I wonder what other superpowers I’ll get later in my life_.


	6. Chapter 5: The Weird Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a 3-part mini-adventure, during which Nova faces her first proper threat (which happens next chapter). However, the Doctor and River Song will not make an appearance here (they will eventually show up, don't worry).
> 
> Several years go by, and here Nova and Hazel celebrate the end of another school year by going to their local arcade for Laser Tag and other games. On the way, they discuss their plans for after high school graduation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Spoilers for Doctor Who episodes "Sontaran Stratagem/Poison Sky," "Stolen Earth/Journey's End," "Eleventh Hour," "Christmas Invasion," "Runaway Bride," "Voyage of the Damned," and "The End of Time" (not necessarily in that order).
> 
> Also, spoilers for Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

Almost a whole decade went by, and weird things _still_ continued to occur in my life (no surprise); though the majority of them didn’t happen to me personally but in places that I’d recently been to, and other places I had yet to visit. Some weird occurrences even the entire world had experienced but didn’t affect me personally, which only proved my non-humanness to be more true:

In 2008, giant eyeballs materialized in every electronic on Earth and declared on a repetitive scale that “the human residence will be incinerated” if some prisoner didn’t hand his/herself over to them.

Every car on the entire planet (at least ones that were equipped with ATMOS) erupted with poison gas that choked the planet for a handful of days in 2009.

Also in 2009, Earth got “stolen” and taken to another area of space where twenty-six other planets were taken; and then shortly after, Earth was invaded by war-tank-like beings that had “exterminated” millions of innocent people.

Weird things even happened four Christmases in a row:

In 2006, people with A-Positive blood were possessed into standing at the edge of the highest building as if attempting to commit suicide—an event in which I had nearly lost my foster father.

In 2007, a “Christmas star” (which turned out to actually be a spaceship made out of spider webs) appeared over the city of London but was destroyed by a military force called UNIT; and then shortly after that the River Thames drained (however that was possible) and took several years to refill.

In 2008, a space-replica of the _Titanic_ fell out of the sky and almost crashed into Buckingham Palace.

However, Christmas of 2009 was the worst Christmas I had ever had. I remembered waking up at five in the morning to two ( _one_ ) blond strangers in my house that literally replaced my foster parents. I meant ‘literally,’ because the blond guy ( _guys?_ ) was still wearing the clothing that my parents had gone to bed in the previous night (needless to say, it was downright disturbing to see a seemingly random man wearing a woman’s nightgown). I was so terrified of this mysterious man that I immediately fled the house, despite the bitterly cold weather, and didn’t stop running for miles. I hid in the sewers for the majority of the day in nothing but PJs and socks—no shoes, no coat, no way of contacting anyone. I stayed, freezing and alone, in the sewers until a police officer (now back to normal) found me and brought me back home. A resident in the neighborhood heard crying in the nearby sewers and sent a police officer to investigate, hence how I was found. Shortly after returning home, I found out that every single human on the planet (except me, of course) was transformed into this psychotic man, but nobody had an explanation as to how it happened. One thing I was sure of (although, I had kept this to myself) was that I was, for once, thankful that I wasn’t human at the time, because if I was human, I would’ve become the psychotic man as well. Another thing I kept to myself was that after everyone became the man, I felt like the man was somehow familiar to me, like we were somehow the _same_ , but I couldn’t explain why, not even to myself. People still talked about that crazy Christmas as if it were yesterday, and it was a Christmas I was never going to forget.

Despite all the weird things that happened, I was still able to do somewhat “normal” things like everybody else. Since I was seven, I attended several Martial Arts classes after school and learned to defend myself and others in case anything similar to the intruder incident at my school back in Second Grade happened again. In middle school, I planned to join the Track team, but because of my busy schedule, I couldn’t join any sports teams (excluding Martial arts) and, instead, just went for daily runs around my neighborhood to stay in shape. I even developed an interest in music, particularly guitar and singing. My foster father taught me to play guitar when I was ten, and I received my first guitar when I was thirteen. Throughout middle and high school, I joined the school choir and sang in school concerts. On more than one occasion, I was even picked to be the head singer for both the school orchestra and choir Christmas concerts; so there were weeks when I had my hands full of extracurricular activities, as well as the typical seven-hour school days. Normally, a human wouldn’t be able to handle so many things in one day, but I was obviously not like other humans. Yes, there were some days I was exhausted by the end of the day, but I still pushed through, living as my “normal human self,” as my foster father always said.

It wasn’t until the end of Sophomore Year of high school when things got uber-weird, on a specific day with Hazel that changed from an innocent game of laser tag to a deadly laser shootout by a psychotic armored dwarf from another world. It was also the day that my friendship with Hazel changed forever.

“Can you believe it, Sydney?” Hazel exclaimed excitedly as she was driving us to our local arcade a few days after the last day of school for the year. “Only two more years of high school left!”

“I know, right?” I said in agreement. “Where has the time gone?”

“I can’t believe we’re _juniors_ now,” Hazel shook her head incredulously. “That’s just insane! I heard Junior Year is the toughest year of high school. How’re we gonna keep up?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, as long as the classes are easy.”

“ _Easy_?” Hazel scoffed. “ _You’re_ one to talk, Syd, with your big Einstein brain. _Everything_ is easy to you.”

I disagreed. “Not everything. It wasn’t easy getting my black belt in Martial Arts Class. That took years to achieve, to build up all that stamina and strength. You have no idea how hard I worked to get that far. And on top of that: choir practice three days a week.”

Hazel shook her head. “Wowzers! Seven-hour school days, five days a week…Martial Arts twice a week after school…choir practice three days a week after school… Geez, how do you do all that stuff and not get exhausted at the end of the day?”

“I don’t know,” I half-lied with a shrug, “I just do.” The truth was, I did often get exhausted from days of seemingly nonstop activities, but I didn’t get as exhausted as normal humans got when they spent hours of nonstop work. I guessed as a non-human, I was able to better preserve my energy and not get as easily fatigued as most regular hard-working humans with daily nine-to-five jobs.

Hazel sighed. “Well, anyways, I’m glad school is over for at least the summer. It’d be nice to sleep in for once. I’m getting sick of getting up at five every morning.” 

“Same,” I nodded in agreement, even though getting up early never bothered me, since I didn’t need as much sleep anymore.

“What do you think you’ll do after you graduate?” She then paused. “Or is it too early to ask?”

I shook my head. “No, they say Junior Year is when people start to think about that. Anyway, to answer your question, I’m not sure yet. For now, I just want to focus on the here and now. I don’t want to plan too far in my future, especially not knowing whether I’d be able to actually do any of that stuff.”

“Right, but say you _did_ know what you wanted to do after graduation,” Hazel wondered, “what would you do?”

I paused for a moment, not sure whether to share my plans with Hazel or not. My foster parents had often asked me that same question, but I hadn’t had the courage to tell them, fearing that I’d upset them; my plans were to do with my biological parents, after all, and I didn’t think they’d approve of my plans.

“I’d want to travel around the world,” I admitted, “explore new places, and discover new and impossible things. Of course, I’d have to get a job first, so I can pay for airfare and stuff. Maybe I’ll study abroad while in college.”

“Where would you go?” Hazel asked curiously.

I shrugged. “College, I don’t know yet. Travelling in general…literally anywhere. You close your eyes and point to a random place on the map, I’d go there, even if it’s slap-bang in the middle of the ocean. You never know what sorts of things you’ll find in uncharted waters.”

“I always wanted to go scuba-diving at the bottom of the sea,” Hazel smiled. “They say the city of Atlantis is a myth, but what if it isn’t? We could be the first to discover it. That wouldn’t be nerdy at all, would it?”

I laughed. “Actually, it wouldn’t. If we’d actually discovered Atlantis, it’d be true fact and not myth; as long as we bring back proof.”

Hazel laughed as well. “True. So what else do you want to do?”

I paused again, this time a little bit longer, just watching the world outside the car window. “I’d want to find my parents,” I admitted after a few moments of silence.

“Your parents?” Hazel said, puzzled, making me think she was referring to my foster parents. Of _course_ I knew where, and even who, my foster parents were, but there were still a lot of things I didn’t know about my biological parents, including myself. Even several years later, my foster parents _still_ refused to tell me anything else about my true origins, and who better to get some _real_ answers than from the people who gave birth to me; obviously, they’d know everything.

“Oh, you mean your _bio_ -parents?” Hazel then realized a few moments later.

I nodded. “Yeah. I know I’ve been saying that I don’t care whether they’d come back for me because I’m perfectly happy with my life here with my foster parents, but that doesn’t keep me from being curious about my bio-parents. I want to know who they are, what they do, where they’re from… Where _I’m_ from. Who _I_ am.”

 _What I am_ , I thought but didn’t say. If it was true that, like the mysterious Nova Song, I was a so-called ‘Time Lord’ too, I wanted to know what that was, since that was something I’d never heard of before. At this point, I was seriously doubting that the name ‘Time Lord’ came out of a _Star Trek_ episode (trust me, I checked), or _anything_ on TV, really, or even on Earth.

“You said one of your parents was a doctor, right?” Hazel asked, puzzled. “Does that mean he, like, saves lives for a living, like a physician?” 

I shrugged. “Yeah, but that might not be all that he does. Who knows, maybe my mom is a doctor too, but of something else, like…archaeology, or something.” My foster parents never said what my bio-mom studied (frankly, I never asked), so I just threw out the first occupation that came to mind.

“Archaeology?” Hazel said with a raised eyebrow. “Who’d want to study archaeology? That’s, like, the study of dead things, isn’t it?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s the study of history—ancient history, like places like Stonehenge, Machu Picchu, and Egypt. You ever wonder where the pyramids came from, what they were built for?”

“Tombs, right, for their kings and pharaohs?” Hazel replied uncertainly.

I nodded. “Right. That’s the sort of place an archaeologist is drawn to—tombs, and ruins, and such. You know, like Indiana Jones.”

“So, like I said, archaeology is the study of dead things,” Hazel pointed out in an obvious tone.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Okay, fine. My bio-mom may or may not have an obsession with studying all things dead, which isn’t creepy at all.” Ignoring Hazel’s sniggering, I said, “For the record, that may not be what my bio-mom actually studies. I just randomly threw that out there.”

Hazel laughed. “I know you did. Imagine if she _did_ actually study that though.”

“Yeah, that may be a bit creepy,” I nodded in agreement. I then thought better. “Then again, maybe not. It might actually be quite fascinating. Seeing ‘dead things’ like that might make you wonder what it was like before it died.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Hazel nodded. “You’d have to have some sort of time-machine to find that out though, wouldn’t you?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, probably. Unfortunately, that sort of thing only exists in Sci-Fi movies.”

“I remember you saying something that it would be impossible to meet your bio-parents, since you didn’t think they’d ever come back for you,” Hazel pointed out.

“No, I said the likeliness of bumping into them would be very low,” I corrected her; “like, I’d have to be at the right place at the right time in order to meet them. I never said it’d be impossible, just unlikely. But, as the old saying goes, ‘the only way to achieve the impossible is to believe that it is possible.’”

Hazel snorted with a raised eyebrow. “You stole that from _Alice in Wonderland_.”

“I know, but it’s true,” I shrugged in a no-big-deal manner. “Where do you think Lewis Carroll got the quote from? He wouldn’t have said that if it weren’t true.”

“True, I guess,” Hazel shrugged in a ‘ _okay, you got me_ ’ manner. “Do you think you’d _ever_ see your parents?”

I sighed, glancing out the window again. “I hope so. If not today, then hopefully at some point in the near future, preferably before I die.” _Preferably before my next regeneration, if that’s something I can still do_ , I thought but didn’t say. I then continued out loud, “I have so many questions I want to ask them, the number one question being why they gave me up. Apparently, they gave me up to protect me from some kind of danger, but what exactly is that danger? What makes it so dangerous? What does it have to do with me? What does it want with me?”

“You said the ‘danger’ wanted to kill you, right?” Hazel said uncertainly.

I nodded. “Or turn me into some sort of assassin to kill my own parents,” I scoffed. “Like _that_ would ever happen. I didn’t take Martial Arts classes to do anything like that; I took them to _protect_ , not to kill.”

“That’s twisted,” Hazel said with a frown.

I nodded in agreement. “Right?”

I then paused, suddenly thinking of the curly-haired woman I’d seen several times in my life, even more so now than back when I was a kid. “Actually, come to think of it,” I said, “I may have seen one of my bio-parents a few times already.”

“You have?” Hazel glanced at me briefly when she stopped at a red light. “When?”

I sighed, deciding to admit my thoughts and feelings about the woman to my best friend, believing that she wouldn’t think of me as a freak for feeling seemingly paranoid that this woman may or may not be a dangerous stalker, even though I never felt that way about her in the past.

“There’s this woman I’ve been seeing always at a distance,” I admitted. “She doesn’t do anything; she just sort of…watches me.” When I noticed Hazel’s concerned glance, I said, “Not in a creepy way; more in a comforting ‘ _it’s okay, I’m here for you_ ’ kind of way. You know, like a mother would toward her anxious child? Every time I see her, I always get this feeling like I’ll always be safe, like she’s my guardian angel, or something…which probably sounds childish. Anyway, I’ve developed the theory that this mysterious woman could be my biological mother watching over me and protecting me.”

Somehow, a part of me felt like this was the truth. The mysterious curly-haired woman wasn’t there to kidnap me or kill me; she was simply there to protect and watch over, and nothing else. Every time I saw her, I never felt scared or feared for my life; in fact, I felt the exact opposite, exactly how I felt when my foster parents were around. The woman seemed to often appear on my birthday and would wave to me to let me know she was there, but she never seemed to have any intensions of harming me in any way, certainly not in public. Despite having feelings of security towards her, I also felt confused whenever I would attempt to approach her, and she’d shake her head and disappear (sometimes literally) into a crowd of people or around a corner. I always found that strange, like she didn’t want to talk to me until a certain time in the future.

“How do you know she’s your mother?” Hazel asked quizzically.

“I don’t, it’s just a theory,” I shook my head. “But one thing I do know is that we look a lot alike. She and I both share the same facial features, the only difference being our eyes. My eyes are a much darker shade of green than hers. I’ve seen her in my dreams too, so obviously I have some sort of connection with her, since she seems to only appear to _me_ and nobody else.”

“Have you tried talking to her?” Hazel asked, seeming more and more suspicious about this mysterious woman as I was.

I nodded. “Yeah, several times. Every time I’ve tried approaching her, she always shakes her head and walks away, like it’s not the right time for us to talk yet. It’s very weird, but it always makes me wonder: when are we actually going to talk? I mean, we’ve got to talk at some point, right? She can’t avoid me forever.” I sighed. “It’s kinda like in _Star Wars_ with Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. In _Empire Strikes Back_ , Darth Vader reveals that he is Luke’s father, but Luke had absolutely no idea how that was possible. But imagine in an alternate universe, Luke develops the theory earlier in the saga that Vader is his father, but just waits for Vader himself to reveal that truth. That’s the sort of thing I’m dealing with. I believe that this mysterious woman is my mother, but I’m just waiting for her to reveal that that is the case. But for some reason, she’s refusing to tell me, like it isn’t the right time to tell me yet.”

The more I shared my feelings toward the mysterious woman that may or may not be my mother, the more anxious I felt about finding out the truth of her identity. At this point, my hearts were pounding at a pace I couldn’t control.

Hazel raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Yeah, that does seem a little sketchy. Then again, maybe she’s avoiding you for a much bigger reason. Like, maybe she senses danger nearby, and she doesn’t want said danger to find out about you and her connection with you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve considered that possibility, but I don’t really know. That’s the problem; that’s something I really want to ask her, but apparently it’s not the right time yet to know, which is super annoying. I’m honestly getting sick and tired of having to wait all the time to find out stuff. It’s like, ‘I’m sixteen; shouldn’t I be old enough to understand things now?’”

Hazel nodded as well. “Yeah, you’d think.” she sighed as she turned off the car and stepped out; apparently, I hadn’t been paying attention to when we had arrived to our destination. “You know what, now that we’re here, we should put all confusions and concerns aside and have a bit of fun. I mean, that’s the main reason why we’re here.”

“You’re right,” I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the parking lot. “School’s finally out, and we’re now in a stress-free time. No homework…”

“No tests to study for…” Hazel added.

“No more Martial Arts classes…”

“No more having to get up at five in the morning…”

“Now’s the time for celebration,” I said with a smile.

Hazel smiled back. “Right, of the end of final exams and the beginning of a well-deserved summer break.”

We laughed as we walked through the parking lot and into the arcade for what I felt—at least at the time—was going to be a good day. Little did I know the day was going to be the exact opposite of good.


	7. Chapter 6: Laser Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the 3-part mini-adventure "Laser Tag," the chapter where Nova faces her first proper threat, barely escaping alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mild adult language
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

The arcade was, surprisingly, very empty when we entered. Besides Hazel and I, there were only a handful of other people (not including the employees), the majority of them being our age, which wasn’t uncommon in places like this. When we first entered, I initially thought the place would be bustling with teenagers like us, who had just gotten out of school. Then again, it was very fortunate that the place would be this way, as we didn’t have to wait in long lines for the games and concession stands.

It was also very fortunate that it was empty, because, unknowingly to us at the time, many innocent people would’ve been in serious danger, had the place been busy. 

Over the course of two hours, we played various games, from Skee-Ball to Mini Golf. We attempted to climb through the tubes of the Children’s Play Place (or at least the Ball Pit), even though it was mostly made for kids than teens. I even tried my hand at ‘shooting’ games, where I had a plastic laser gun to shoot at the screen, which I had a particular knack for.

“Wow, Syd!” Hazel exclaimed as she watched me shoot zombies left-and-right all over the screen. “You’re really good with a gun. I’ll have to stay away from you if you ever decide to become a cop.”

“Nah,” I shook my head. “I don’t particularly like guns. I just thought I’d try out the game. But yes, I do seem to be very good at this. I think I’ll stick with aikido, thank you very much. _Yes_!” I cheered after finding out I had won the game after killing the last zombie. “Take that, zombie freaks! But no, I hope to not ever have to use my skills. I don’t much care for violence.”

“Says the girl who massacred all those zombies without mercy,” Hazel teased.

“That was just a game,” I laughed as well. “I doubt I would ever have to do that in real life.”

After a few more games, we decided to take a little break before we tried our hands at Laser Tag, which was what we were planning to do to end the afternoon. We ordered sodas at the concession stand and sat at one of the nearby tables, thinking about what else we could do before the day was over. 

As Hazel was suggesting movies that we could watch during our sleepover later in the evening, I happened to be facing the sliding doors of the entrance, and I had the misfortune of spotting someone all-to-familiar that I had hoped to never see again, at least until the end of the summer: a peacock named Samuel Davies.

“Oh, no, no, no,” I groaned as I swiftly turned by back on the boy and buried my face in my hands. “Not _him_. Ugh, I _so_ wish I could regenerate right now.”

Sam and I met last year during lunch when I had nowhere to sit (Hazel had a different lunch time), and he had offered for me to sit next to him at the table. Even though he was nice to me that day, I quickly learned that he was another of those self-centered brats like Samantha Owens that always craved attention from others, even when they had absolutely no intentions of giving any. I discovered that he was highly attracted to my looks (I honestly didn’t think I was that attractive) and became totally obsessed with me. He asked me to every school event, including Prom and Homecoming, and whenever I hesitated to say ‘yes,’ he would push me a little harder; he seemed to never take ‘no’ for an answer when it came to asking people out. Because his anxious energy and obvious obsession with me overwhelmed me, I had tried avoiding him, but it was often unsuccessful, as he always tended to find opportunities to talk to me between and during classes. Even my dual hearts didn’t seem to like him, because they always went into overdrive whenever he was around.

“What?” Hazel asked, puzzled at my strange and seemingly random reaction.

“He picked the _worst_ possible time to show up,” I groaned again, trying my best to hide my face. “Why _now_ , of all times?”

“Syd, what are you talking about?” Hazel demanded. “What’s going on? And what did you mean, you wish you could regenerate?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head, chastising myself for almost revealing my secret. I pulled Hazel’s arm and turned her around so her back was to the entrance as well, so Sam wouldn’t recognize her too. “Don’t look now, but Sam Davies from school just walked in.”

“Sam Davies?” Hazel asked with dread in her voice. “The annoying one who asks all the dumb questions in class, and who you claimed has a huge obsession with you?”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t a claim; it’s unfortunately the truth. But yeah, he also does all that stuff to seek attention for himself. That’s why I’ve been trying to avoid him, but he’s _obsessed_ with me, mainly because he thinks I’m ‘the most beautiful girl in school,’ so he claims.” I rolled my eyes. “So he _keeps_ claiming. He’s worse than Samantha Owens. At least she wasn’t obsessed with me. It's bad enough they almost have the same name.”

“Didn’t he claim at one point that you were his girlfriend?” Hazel asked with a raised eyebrow.

I risked a quick glance behind me and noticed that Sam didn’t come here alone; he (no surprise) also brought a large group of friends to accompany him. I sighed as I quickly turned my back to him again. “Yeah, which is embarrassing. I don’t even know him that well, except that he is a total peacock that cares only about himself. The only reason why he’s asked me to Prom and Homecoming is so he can bring a lot of attention to himself while being with a ‘beautiful girl’ like me. I mean, yeah, I’m beautiful, but not _that_ beautiful. I’ve had many boys in our grade claim that they’re attracted to me, but Sam is next level. I personally don’t like being the center of attention, but Sam doesn’t make it any easier. If he sees us here, he’ll never leave us alone.”

The last thing I wanted was for Sam to ruin this perfect day for us; not to mention him finding out about my secret to not being entirely human. _Geez, what a nightmare that would be_ , I thought with a shudder.

Hazel glanced over our shoulders again, and this time her face bore the expression of dread. “Uh…I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said apologetically, “but he’s coming this way.”

 _You’ve **got** to be kidding_, I thought, hoping beyond hope that she was saying that to tease me again.

That was until…

“Hey, Sydney!” his squeaky voice said enthusiastically. “I had no idea you’d be here!”

 _Nope_ , I thought dismally with a sigh, _of course not_.

“ _Fudgeknuckle_ ,” I muttered under my breath as I put on the most convincing smile I could muster. “Hey, Sam,” I said, turning to him. “I had no idea you’d be here either.” I then had an idea; although, I figured the idea working in my favor was going to be a longshot. I grabbed Hazel’s arm and rose from my seat, saying in an apologetic voice, “Unfortunately, my friend and I were just leaving.”

“What?” Hazel asked, confused; something I hoped she would never say at this time. “I thought we were gonna go laser-tagging.”

I glanced incredulously to Hazel, screaming at her in my head, _Girl, I would rather laser-tag with literally **anyone** in the entire universe but him._

“Really?” Sam said, genuinely shocked. “What a coincidence! My friends and I were just coming here for Laser Tag. You and Hazel should join us.”

 _Seriously?_ I thought in disbelief. _No! Way!_

“That sounds really nice, Sam,” I said, feeling my hearts pounding in desperation to get away from Sam ( _You have my sympathies, guys; how I **so** wish I could disappear right now_), “but Haze and I have someplace else we need to be now. Maybe some other time.” _Like, **never**_ , I thought in my head.

“Come on,” Sam sighed almost in a whine, “it’ll be fun. We could be on the same team, and if I had to, I’d sacrifice myself just to let you win.”

 _Seriously?_ I thought in disbelief again. _Is he for real right now?_

“Wow, Sam…” I said, glancing to Hazel, at a complete loss for words. “How… _heroic_ of you.”

“Totally,” he agreed in a proud tone. “What’s more heroic than sacrificing one’s life for a beautiful girl?”

 _Here we go again_ , I sighed rolling my eyes. I then said out loud, “True. Nothing’s more heroic than that.” I raised an eyebrow. “You realize this is just a game, right? No one’s going to get hurt or anything. They aren’t actual lasers, just lights.”

“I know all that,” He shrugged. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman…” He then raised a playful eyebrow. “For the _ladies_.”

I rolled my eyes again for about the millionth time since he arrived. _That’s not being a gentleman,_ I thought but didn’t say; _that’s being an ungrateful attention-seeker_.

Sam smirked, leaning into me as if to kiss me (thank god he didn’t). Instead, he said, “I look forward to seeing you on the ‘battlefield,’ my liege. I’ll make sure to go easy on you.”

“I look forward to it,” I said sarcastically; a tone that, of course, went over his head. After he was out of earshot, I turned to Hazel with a groan, “God, please kill me now.”

“Why?” she asked, puzzled. “It’s only _one_ game of Laser Tag. What could go wrong?”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “With Sam around, _anything_ could go wrong. It’s bad enough being stuck with him in class for even an hour.”

“That’s true,” Hazel shrugged in agreement.

“Hey, Syd, you joining us, or not?” Sam called to us from the Laser Tag area. “We’re picking teams now!”

Hazel turned to me and exchanged an uncertain glance with me. “What do you want to do?” she asked. “You want to say we’re tired and come back tomorrow?”

I smiled, thinking that to not be such a bad idea. As much as I wanted to be Sam-free for the rest of the summer (preferably for _good_ ), I dreaded to think that tomorrow wouldn’t be any different.

I shook my head. “No, we’ll play. Besides, I’ve heard he comes here, like, every day. I’d hate to come back and run into him _two_ days in a row. That happens plenty of times at school.”

Hazel shrugged, feeling obligated to go along with my decision. “Alright, you’re the boss.”

We reluctantly joined the group for our pre-planned Laser Tag game (although, the original plan did _not_ include Sam). As we were getting into the vests required for the game (which flashed in different colors to indicate where to aim the laser to earn points, and also which came with a plastic laser gun, which was similar to the one I used in the zombie-shooting game), I explained how to play to Hazel, who had never played before; frankly, I never played either, but I did a lot of research on the game before we arrived.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hazel asked after I finished explaining the rules. “You have a ‘battle plan?’”

I smirked, glancing to Sam. “Not really, but if you want the day to be even better, I’d say keep shooting Sam. Annoy the crap out of him for all the times he’s annoyed the crap out of the rest of us in class.”

“And eliminate him before we’re even five seconds into the game,” Hazel sniggered. “I like this plan.”

I shrugged. “Well, I don’t know if we’ll be ‘eliminating’ anyone, but if so, what better way to get rid of Sam sooner, right?”

“Right,” Hazel laughed again.

As everyone else was still getting into their laser-vests, I saw someone sneakily walk into the Laser Tag arena and out of sight. The figure was about the size of a kid and wore a strange-looking set of purple clothing that looked vaguely like armor. The kid wore a massive helmet that covered his whole head and face, and he even held a massive gun that didn’t look anything like the laser guns we wielded; in fact, the ‘kid’s’ gun looked like a _real_ laser gun. Upon first noticing him, I suddenly got the familiar sense of danger—the exact same sense I got when the school intruder showed up to our school in Second Grade.

“Who was that?” Hazel asked, also noticing the ‘kid’s’ odd clothing and behavior.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Maybe he was an employee checking the arena or something.” Somehow, I doubted my statement to be true.

“You sure?” Hazel said with a frown; she seemed to also feel suspicious about the ‘kid’s’ unobvious intentions. “He wasn’t wearing a nametag. Maybe he’s another player. Our vests are similar in color to the guy’s clothing; though his isn’t glowing like ours.”

“I don’t know,” I said again. “Maybe it’s nothing to worry about.” Of course, when I said that, I was trying to convince myself that that was the case, even though I was eighty-percent sure it wasn’t.

“Maybe, but we’re not supposed to go in until we’re told to,” Hazel pointed out; “and that guy just walked in like he owned the place.”

I shook my head, thinking that I was just being paranoid for no reason. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll probably see him when we get inside. He could just be a ‘health and safety’ checker or something.”

“You ready to be tagged with lasers?” Sam said as he approached us with his laser gun ready, a coy smile on his face. I had to fight myself to not roll my eyes again.

“Uh…sure,” I said uncertainly. I then stepped a tad closer to Sam and murmured, “Listen, Sam. Did you see a guy in purple armor walk into the arena just now?”

Sam frowned uncertainly. “No. Why?”

I sighed, thinking that everything I was going to say to Sam might sound stupid to him, but my paranoia was beginning to increase in that moment, as was the sense of danger. “I don’t know. I’m just getting the sense that he may not be all that he seems,” I admitted. “Just…tell your friends to watch out for him, okay?”

“Okay,” he shrugged in a way that suggested I was, indeed, being paranoid for no reason. “I’ll be watching out for everyone. We’re all on our own team. Trust me, I’ve played this a million times.”

I rolled my eyes again; apparently I lost my fight with myself to ceasing the eye-rolling. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” I then sighed in apparent annoyance. _Why doesn’t anyone take me seriously? I guess I just have one of those faces._

“What’s wrong, Syd?” Hazel asked, concerned. “You’re acting really weird, kinda like you did back in Second Grade with the school intruder. Like…” She paused as if fearing how I would react to the next thing on her mind. “Like something _bad_ is about to happen.”

“If you recall, something bad _did_ happen back then,” I reminded her. “Or rather, something bad was _about_ to happen, if not for that ‘River Song’ woman.”

“You mean your _mother_?” Hazel pointed out in a murmur, like that was part of a secret, which, for all I knew, probably _was_.

I shrugged. “Well, I’m still not sure about that. In any case, I’m getting the same feeling as last time, but this time feels a bit different, like this might be something _worse_ than the school intruder incident.”

“Worse?” Hazel asked nervously. “What do you mean, worse?”

Suddenly, one of the employees started ushering us inside the Laser Tag arena, using the same entrance that the mysterious purple-armored figure used. We were about to start the game.

“I don’t know,” I said as we prepared to follow the rest of the group. “Just…stay close to me, just in case. I have a feeling this may not be an ordinary game.”

We entered the Neon-colored arena in silence. It wasn’t until we took our positions at the back of the arena when Hazel spoke up, murmuring to me, “Okay. Now what?”

I shrugged again, readying my laser gun. “I don’t know. Just play like normal, I guess. But be careful.”

A few seconds later, the game commenced. Everyone began running around, shooting each other with bright laser lights and dodging strikes by taking cover behind brightly-colored walls. For the most part, Hazel and I stayed where we were, occasionally shooting anyone who crossed our path.

After a few minutes of laser-tagging, Hazel panted, “I haven’t seen any purple dudes anywhere. Maybe that guy we saw was an employee, after all.”

I shrugged, still in doubt. “I don’t know. He could still be here.”

I suddenly paused, seeing someone dressed in purple streak past me a few feet away, but it wasn’t anybody I recognized. 

“Wait… Who was that?” I exclaimed in shock at the unexpected appearance of the unknown player. 

“Who was who?” Hazel asked, puzzled; evidently, she didn’t see the person walk by, seeing as the arena was dark, with only the Neon-colored walls and laser-pointers for light; that, and the mysterious person was not wearing the required Laser Tag vest.

Not even a second after she had said that, a deep, otherworldly voice shouted, “Halt, human scum!” followed by the sound of laser shots that sounded unlike the laser shots that came from our plastic laser guns. These other shots sounded like _real_ -life laser shots, like the ones heard in the _Star Wars_ films. 

While the laser shots were being fired, I heard several of Sam’s friends yell at each other in confused voices:

“Whoa, dude! What was that?”

“Who’s this guy? Whose team is he on?”

“Those lasers looked _real_!”

“He called us ‘humans,’ like he isn’t!”

“Is he one of Sydney’s friends?”

“ _What?!_ ” I yelled instinctively in reply. Who in their right mind would think I invited a crazy psycho to play this game with us? How insane was that?

“Syd!” Hazel cried in sheer panic. “What’s going on?”

I honestly didn’t know how to respond to her, since I didn’t know what was going on either. The only thing I was sure of was that the sense of danger was at its peak at this point, and I had to do something about it.

“Stay here!” I urged. “I’m going to see why everyone is freaking out!”

I ran from wall to wall until I saw one of Sam’s friends. Once I found one, a boy in the grade below us named Cyrus, I yelled to him, “Hey! What’s happening?”

“Some armored dwarf is shooting at us with _real_ lasers!” He exclaimed incredulously, dodging lasers— _real_ ones—that looked like they were coming from somewhere on the opposite side of us. “He keeps calling us ‘humans,’ like he isn’t one! Who talks like that?”

 _Aliens_ , I thought in my head but didn’t say out loud, knowing he’d think of me as a freak for suggesting something so ludicrous; however, I knew better, as I may have been one myself. 

I was about to suggest to Cyrus that we run when the mysterious figure shouted something I wasn’t expecting: “Surrender the Time Lord female, and your deaths will be merciful! Fail, and you will die in agony for the glory of Sontar!”

Despite the laser shots still seeming determined to find our skulls through the walls, I paused at the creature’s statement. He— _it_ —was looking for a Time Lord female, one that was possibly my sister Nova…or _me_. Whoever this sicko was, he was after us for our powers, or possibly just to kill us. I wasn’t sure if this guy was part of the school intruder’s alliance that was after me back in Second Grade— _what did they call themselves? Valkyrie, or something?_ —but either way, this guy was just as dangerous as the school intruder, maybe even more so. I knew I had to get out of here soon, or I would surely die, and not just by regeneration. But I had to get everyone else out first.

“He’s fucking _insane_!” Cyrus shook his head in disbelief, seemingly giving up on his attempts to comprehend what was going on. I honestly gave up on that long ago. “I am _so_ out of here!” He stood up and made a beeline for the exit.

“Wait!” I screamed at him, suddenly having the disturbing feeling like he was going to get himself brutally killed.

Unfortunately, that did end up happening, as a laser shot was fired at him through his back, and he collapsed to the floor, unmoving.

“No!” I cried in horror as I stood up, about to run to check his pulse, when I was suddenly fired at, and I was forced to take cover again. This time I was able to get a glimpse of the monstrosity that was causing this chaos. It was definitely an alien, because it had three fingers instead of five, and the way it was walking was unlike how a regular human would walk.

“Surrender the Time Lord female, and I shall grant you a speedy death!” the armored dwarf screamed with manic energy.

Somehow, even if I was the so-called ‘Time Lord female’ he was after, I doubted he’d let me go with even a scratch, especially when he was so determined to massacre everyone he set eyes on. My guess was that even if he shot me, and he saw me regenerate, that’d be the only way he’d know for sure that he’d caught the right person…

Unless I just died, like Sam’s friend and anyone else he brutally murdered. 

That last thought suddenly made me think of Hazel, and whether she was still alive or not. _Dear god, I hope she is_ , I prayed.

In tears, I set out to look for her, avoiding any and all laser shots, whether they’d be real or fake.

Instead, I found Sam, thankfully unharmed (for real, as I would never wish death on anyone, no matter what species…well, except for whatever was shooting at us). “Sydney!” he exclaimed in relief upon seeing me.

“Sam!” I said with equal relief. “Have you seen Hazel? We need to get out of here! It isn’t safe! One of your friends just got hurt! Those aren’t just laser lights; those are—”

“Those are _real_ lasers! Yes, I know!” he said darkly. “I found that out after that sicko shot Brian dead. And no, I haven’t seen Hazel. I came to get _you_!”

I sighed, shaking my head incredulously. A handful of his friends were _dead_ , and he was _still_ more worried about _me_?

“I said I’d be fine!” I said in exasperation. “We need to find—”

I heard an abrupt laser shot, closely followed by a girl’s painful scream.

“ _Hazel_!” I cried in horror. Ignoring Sam’s protests, I ran in the direction of the scream, and I saw the murderous armored dwarf standing over Hazel, pointing his laser gun at her.

 _Don’t you dare!_ I shouted, although I wasn’t sure if I’d said it out loud or not. Either way, I wasn’t going to let him kill her. I snuck around some nearby walls and behind the armored dwarf. I remembered the psycho saying something about Sontar, which I had guessed was the planet the creature was from. _That made him—what—a Sontaran?_ I briefly wondered.

Hazel looked up at the Sontaran, clutching her arm where he must’ve shot her. _The sick bastard!_

“You are female,” the Sontaran declared, “but you are not the Time Lord female. The Time Lord female is in the vicinity. You will tell me where the female is, and I shall spare your life from a painfully slow death!”

“T-T-Time Lord?” Hazel stuttered in confusion. “I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! W-What is a Time Lord?”

“Spare me your worthless pleas, human scum!” the Sontaran shouted at her. “Extract the Time Lord female, and your death will be merciful! I will give you a count of three! _One_!” He immediately started counting without giving Hazel a chance to explain herself.

As the Sontaran was speaking, I heard strange breathing sounds (much like what astronauts sounded like through their helmets) coming from a small vent-like hole on the back of the creature’s armored collar. A genius idea hit me like a punch to the chest, and I knew I had to quick-think on my feet, or Hazel would surely die.

“Please!” Hazel pleaded, shaking her head and backing against the wall. “I don’t know what a Time Lord is! I don’t know _anything_!”

“ _Two_!” the Sontaran said the next number in the sequence, cocking his gun.

 _Now’s my chance_ , I thought as I lifted the end of my laser gun to use like a club. _Dear god, please don’t let me die_ , I prayed.

“Please! No!” Hazel screamed in horror and desperation.

“ _Three_!” I screamed before the Sontaran could as I brought the plastic laser gun down on the vent-hole with all my strength. Once hit, a huge puff of air was released from the hole in the collar, and the Sontaran screamed in seeming pain and collapsed to the floor, although I wasn’t sure if he collapsed dead or unconscious. I then realized that it didn’t matter; Hazel was saved with a millisecond to spare.

“Holy crap!” I cried in shock. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“Sydney!” Hazel cried, relieved to be alive, as was I.

“Hey!” I panted as I took off my Laser Tag vest and tossed it to the floor. “Perfect timing, huh?”

“It could’ve been better,” Hazel admitted with a small chuckle, despite almost losing her life to a crazy alien.

I sighed sadly. “Yeah, sorry, that was a bit too close. You alright?” I bent down and examined her. She wasn’t bleeding anywhere, but she had a large burn mark across her forearm that looked pretty bad. 

“No!” Hazel admitted in an obvious tone as I helped her out of the vest. “He shot me!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine!” I said as I helped her to her feet. “We need to get out of here!”

We ran out of the arena, as well as the arcade, never looking back.


	8. Chapter 7: Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last part of the 3-part mini-adventure "Laser Tag."
> 
> Nova and Hazel rush to escape the deadly threat that they had just experienced last chapter. Instead of taking her friend to the hospital, Nova has other plans to heal Hazel's arm, which might just change their friendship forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a lot of quotes, which might make the chapter seem slow, but hopefully you all will enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Also, now that the semester is finally over (only one more semester 'til I graduate. Yea!!!), I should be able to update much more often. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

“Give me the keys!” I demanded as I helped Hazel into the passenger-side seat of her car. “I’ll drive!”

“But you’ve never driven my car before,” Hazel said as she tried to push me away, as if she wasn’t obviously injured. “ _I’ll_ drive—ow!” She yelped in pain, clutching her burnt arm.

I sighed in exasperation. “Haze, you can’t! you’re injured, I’m not! It’s okay, I’ll figure it out. Hurry, the Sontaran could be following us!”

“Sontaran?” Hazel asked with a puzzled frown.

“That’s my name for that sicko that attacked us,” I explained as I strapped her into her seatbelt. “It doesn’t matter. Just give me the keys, quick! It could come out here any second!”

Hazel reluctantly handed over her car keys, practically shoving them into my hand. After I closed the passenger-side door, I ran to the driver’s side and pulled the door open.

While I was preparing to get seated in front of the wheel, I immediately paused as I heard an eerie, harsh scraping sound in the distance. It sounded vaguely like the noise I heard in my dream when I was seven, when I dreamt of my biological parents holding my infant body in the large room with the strange circular column from which the noise was emanating from—a noise like a house key scraping along old piano strings. I searched around the parking lot, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from and what it could be. At one point, in the distance on the far side of the lot, I thought I saw a faint blue light shining through some trees, but it was so far away, I couldn’t quite see what it was or what was causing it; and, strangely enough, something in my mind told me that the noise was coming from that light.

“What is it, Syd?” Hazel’s puzzled voice startled me out of the apparent trance I was in. I glanced at her, and from the look in her chocolate-brown eyes, she didn’t seem to hear the otherworldly, yet also strangely familiar, sound.

“Uh, nothing,” I said uncertainly, glancing back toward the direction of the sound, the sound that I could no longer hear. “I just…thought I heard a noise.” I abruptly shook my head, thinking of Hazel and our near-death experience. “It doesn’t matter. We need to leave before the police show up.” I then started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot at a brisk but safe pace.

As I was steering toward the parking lot’s exit, Hazel frowned and said, “Uh, it looks like the police are already here.” She pointed out the passenger-side window, toward the trees where I saw the strange light. “There’s a blue box over there that says ‘Police’ on it. That’s weird. Since when do police use _boxes_? They haven’t used those since the fifties.” 

I did a quick glance out the window and saw, to my amazement, a large blue box standing innocently between the trees, seemingly inconspicuously. The box looked about the size of an old garden shack with panels and windows occupying every side. Along the top of each side was a sign that read “Police Public Call Box” in bold lettering. When I first laid eyes on the strange object, something sparked in my memory that I couldn’t explain—a spark of recognition.

“No idea,” I murmured in a reply, trying and failing to comprehend the feelings of familiarity running through my brain. _Why do I get the feeling like I’ve seen that box before?_ I couldn’t help thinking to myself.

“You have?” Hazel turned to me with a frown, and I realized I’d said my thought out loud. Apparently I had a bad habit of doing that unintentionally; although, most times I did it, I was ninety-percent positive that my mouth wasn’t moving. “When?” She then gasped, facing the road. “Syd!”

I turned back to the road and slammed on the brakes, almost rear-ending the car in front of us. “Sorry!” I felt the need to apologize.

 _Geez, Sydney, focus on the road and not a measly little box_ , I chastised myself, _even though it’s one I’ve never seen before, at least here._

“Where did that box even come from anyway?” I briefly wondered aloud. I then shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re injured; I need to get you home.”

“Home?” Hazel exclaimed. “Don’t you think a _hospital_ would be better for me? Look at my arm! You can almost see my bone through the burnt flesh!”

“Under normal circumstances, yes, I would send you to the hospital,” I said, this time putting my full attention on the road, despite my curiosity of the blue box eating at me; “but I’m not going to take you there.”

“Why not?” Hazel asked in an incredulous tone.

“Several reasons,” I said. “One: the nearest hospital is much farther than your house. Two: I doubt you’d want to be pointlessly poked and prodded all day long when you can spend your time in the comfort of your own home while your arm heals. Three: I personally can’t go to hospitals, because my parents don’t allow me to go for fear of the doctors and nurses testing me too. There is a part of me that I don’t want them to find out about, and if they found out about it and tried to ‘fix’ the situation, they could kill me instead of heal me. And four: yes, I can drop someone off at the hospital, but I have a much better way to heal you than anything that typical ailments can do.”

“Like what?” Hazel asked, apparently doubtful that I had the knowledge and skill to help her in any way.

I paused. “Uh…you’ll see. We’ll have to wait until we’re behind closed doors first. It’s kind of a secret.” _‘Kind of’ being an understatement_ , I thought in my head. I then said out loud, “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell _anyone_ , not even you. But this is something I can’t just keep between my parents and myself.”

“So you’re gonna break the rules and tell me anyway?” Hazel said with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course,” I nodded; “you’re my best friend. Friends tell each other everything. There’s still a lot about me that you don’t know.” Actually, there was just _one_ thing she didn’t know about me (that being my non-humanness), but I guessed my two hearts and regenerative powers were things that combined to make me appear not human.

“I don’t understand,” Hazel shook her head. “How’re these ‘secrets’ gonna heal me?”

I sighed. This was not how I imagined I would reveal these secrets to her. I had hoped I would show her when things weren’t so chaotic, when we weren’t under some alien threat like we were during our Laser Tag game just minutes ago.

 _When my life wasn’t so complicated_ , I added in my head.

“You’ll see,” I said. “How I’m going to heal you is the secret. Of course, it may come as a shock to you, so I don’t want you to scream and alert your brother if he’s around.”

Hazel sighed as well. “Well, if he is around, I doubt he’d be remotely concerned for me. He’s worthless and doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s much like Sam, just less… _narcissistic_.”

We both laughed, as we knew that was all too true. Although, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Hazel. I couldn’t imagine having a sibling that didn’t have a care in the universe about me, even if my life ( _lives_ ) was on the line.

I shrugged. “Well, just in case he tries to barge in, I’ll lock the door. I certainly don’t want him finding out about this secret. It’s probably the biggest secret I have.” _If being born a non-human isn’t_ , I thought in my head. Suddenly thinking of Sam, I said, “Speaking of Sam, I hope he’s alright. I didn’t see him on the way out, except in the arena before I rescued you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see him either,” Hazel shook her head; “not since the game started. His friends, though… Brian Daniels…he got shot and killed right in front of me.”

I nodded gravely. “Yeah, the same thing happened with Cyrus. He tried to flee, only to be shot in the back. I’m not sure if he survived.” A part of me felt responsible for his and Brian’s death, as I could’ve saved them, urged them to leave, rather than have my curiosity of the situation get the better of me like it ultimately did.

“That was so horrible,” Hazel said, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling disturbed. “That was almost _us_ , Syd! _We_ were almost killed by that…that… What did you call it; a Sultan?”

“Sontaran,” I corrected. “I’m pretty sure that thing wasn’t human.”

“I don’t think so either,” Hazel agreed. “I mean, that thing had _three_ fingers; only _three_! I can’t imagine what it would’ve looked like without its helmet.”

“Me neither,” I said, feeling a shudder run down my spine, just thinking about what monstrosity we might’ve witnessed if its face weren’t covered. “Good thing it was wearing a helmet, huh?”

“Yeah,” Hazel agreed again. She then glanced uncertainly at me. “How did you stop it? That armor it was wearing looked hard to smash through, and you just whacked it on the back of the neck, and it collapsed so easily. How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “There was a little vent-hole on the back of its collar that acted as a sort of breathing apparatus, and I just whacked it, hoping I’d clog it or something. Thank God it worked, or we both would’ve been toast.”

Hazel sighed. “Well, whatever you did, you saved my life.”

“No prob,” I said with a smile; “you would’ve done the same.”

“Actually, I don’t know,” Hazel said hesitantly. “I honestly don’t think I would’ve had the courage to. I’m surprised _you_ did.” 

“Me too,” I agreed. “To be honest, I’m not sure where I got the courage from. I guess I must’ve suddenly found it in my hearts or something.”

“Hearts?” Hazel suddenly asked, puzzled.

 _Fudgeknuckle_ , I cursed myself for accidentally revealing my ‘two hearts’ secret. “Uh, did I day ‘hearts?’” I said, trying to play dumb. “I meant to say ‘ _heart_.’ _Duh_ , ‘cause humans have only _one_ heart; it’d be impossible for them to have two, right? Unless you’re an octopus; in which case, you’d have _three_.”

“Uh, Syd…are you alright?” Hazel said in a concerned tone. Clearly I was playing too much dumb, and she wasn’t believing any of it. _Of course not_ , I chastised myself, _because I’m an idiot_. “You’re acting really weird again, but at least this time it’s not ‘ _something bad is about to happen_ ’ weird.” Her tone briefly made me wonder which version of ‘weird’ she preferred I acted. I honestly didn’t know which one _I_ preferred.

“Uh…no, I’m fine,” I said, suddenly having a hard time keeping a firm grip of the steering wheel, as my palms were sweaty. “I’m just still shaken from the near-death experience, that’s all. Sometimes I say things that don’t make sense when I’m flustered. Anyway, it doesn’t matter; we’re almost to your house.”

 _Yeah, like Haze would believe **that** lie_, I scoffed to myself.

Hazel glanced uncertainly out the window. “Yeah, we would be if you hadn’t missed the turn just now.”

Apparently, she was right; I had missed the turn. _I guess that’s what I get for almost giving away my secret at the wrong time_ , I thought dismally to myself. I apologized and corrected our path to her house, but there was a downside: the missed turn cost Hazel an extra two minutes in agony from her burnt arm, and it was my fault. _Some savior I am_ , I thought, mentally slapping myself in the face for my stupidity. 

We arrived to Hazel’s house five minutes later (or what should’ve been _three_ , if I hadn’t missed the turn), neither of us saying a word to each other during that time, mainly because I was embarrassed with myself for the way I acted. It wasn’t until after we entered her house when I finally spoke up, “It looks like we have the house to ourselves.” Hazel told me shortly after she picked me up earlier in the day that her parents would be out of town for the weekend, so she’d be home alone with her obnoxious brother; that was, if he wasn’t staying out late with friends like he often did. Not that it mattered, as Hazel had invited me over for a sleepover the previous day.

It wasn’t until I walked further into the house by the stairs that I suddenly heard loud music coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms. “I stand corrected,” I sighed. “Sounds like your brother is having a party upstairs. We should crash.” I then noticed Hazel’s incredulous stare, and I instantly thought better. “Oh my god, I’m _kidding_.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised he may not mind _you_ crashing,” Hazel said as she went into the kitchen and started sifting through the cabinets and drawers. “I overheard him talking with one of his friends on the phone the other day that he’s developing a crush on you.”

I almost gagged. “Seriously? Your brother has a _crush_ on me? Wow! And here I thought he only cared about _himself_.” For some reason, I was having a hard time believing that story.

Hazel laughed. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. The last time he talked to me was to ask if you were seeing anyone.”

I snorted. “Well, of _course_ I can see everyone; my vision is _excellent_.”

“Uh, I meant ‘seeing anyone,’ as in ‘looking for a potential date,’” Hazel clarified.

I laughed again. “Yeah, I know; I was just teasing. And no, I am not seeing anyone; certainly not _him_.” The image of me dating, or even marrying, her good-for-nothing brother suddenly popped into my head, and I felt the need to stick pins into my eyes for it. _No! Thank! You!_ I thought in disgust.

Hazel laughed again as well. “That’s exactly what I said.” She suddenly groaned in irritation.

“What are you doing?” I asked in concern.

“I’m looking for the First-Aid Kit,” she said, slamming a drawer closed with a loud _bang_. “We usually keep it in this drawer. It must’ve gotten moved again.”

“Oh, we don’t need that,” I said, shaking my head.

“What?” Hazel frowned, puzzled.

“I told you, I have a better way to heal you than anything that typical ailments can do,” I explained. “With a burn like that, nothing you have in the First-Aid Kit will help you.”

“Which is exactly why you should’ve dropped me off at the hospital,” she argued. “No offense, Syd, but you don’t have the medical expertise to heal me. And like you said, there’s nothing in the First-Aid Kit that will help me.”

I sighed, feeling guilty. “You’re right. I may not have any medical expertise, but I have the _power_ to heal you.”

“‘Power?’” Hazel asked, frowning again. “What do you mean, ‘power?’”

“I’ll show you,” I said, gesturing for her to follow me. “Upstairs.” I then noticed her seemingly doubtful look as she approached me. “Trust me,” I said calmly. 

Still seeming uncertain, Hazel did as I requested as we went upstairs and crept past her brother’s room—not that we needed to, because he was playing his music so loudly that he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything, not even a robbery—and into her room.

“Are you sure about this?” Hazel asked after we entered her room. “I still think we should get back in my car, and you drive me to the hospital.”

“Would you rather I take you to the hospital, but you have to deal with a burnt arm for several days?” I said as I closed and locked her door. “Or would you want your arm to be healed _my_ way, where you’re completely healed in two seconds?”

“How would you heal this in two seconds?” she asked with a frown. “This looks much worse than even a third-degree burn.”

I sighed as we sat down on her bed. “I know this all looks strange, me about to heal you _without_ need of a First-Aid Kit…”

“Ha!” Hazel scoffed. “‘Strange’ wouldn’t be my word for it. More like ‘mad,’ ‘crazy,’ ‘ _insane_!’”

“Well, what you’re about to witness might just be the most insane thing you’ve ever seen,” I shrugged. “Also, as I’ve mentioned before, this might be my biggest secret I have; in which case, it is absolutely _vital_ that you don’t tell anyone. I promised my parents that I wouldn’t tell anyone, not even you; and you’ve already guessed that I’m risking a lot to break this promise. In fact, I am literally risking my _life_ to do this.”

“Your life?” Hazel cocked her head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “How?”

I figured she wouldn’t understand much without an explanation first, so I decided to give her one. “Do you remember learning about Regeneration in Biology?” I asked to start off the explanation.

“Kind of,” Hazel said, her raised eyebrow still present. “It’s when an animal renews its body, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s very common with lizards and starfish…and possibly Time Lords.”

“Time Lords?” she asked, her frown also showing no changes. She then paused. “Wait, that Sultan— _Sontaran_ , sorry—mentioned it was looking for a ‘Time Lord female.’ I’m assuming it was talking about one of us, since we were the only females in the arena; but it confirmed I wasn’t the one, so it must’ve been talking about _you_. The school intruder back in Second Grade mentioned he was looking for a ‘Time Lord’ as well.”

I nodded again. “Yeah, I’ll get to that later. Anyway, Regeneration…that’s the secret I’m going to show you.”

“How?” Hazel asked, looking me up and down. “You don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“This is a different kind of Regeneration,” I explained. “Normally, when a limb is lost or cut off, a lizard can simply re-grow it back, same with starfish. But with Time Lords, I think it’s different. For them…” I paused, thinking that _I_ might be part of this group—or rather, _species_ —too. “For _us_ , we can conjure up a light from our bodies, which bursts out like a firework and completely rewrites our DNA where we look completely different from our original bodies. This exact thing happened to me when I was four years old.”

“What happened?” Hazel asked curiously.

“Since my adult teeth were growing in at such an early age for me, my parents gave me aspirin to help soothe the pain,” I explained, “but it gave me a severe allergic reaction and almost killed me. But instead of just dying, I regenerated into a whole new person. Actually, I don’t look that much different from my previous body; just physically older and taller. Although, it could also be that I didn’t want to change. Why would I want to anyway?”

Hazel shook her head. “I wouldn’t really want to eith— _argh_!” She suddenly screamed in pain, clutching her arm.

“Hazel!” I cried, alarmed, as I laid a hand on her shoulder. “I need to stop rambling,” I chastised myself. “I need to heal you…right _now_.”

“But…didn’t you say you’d…literally be risking your life to do it?” Hazel panted, seeming to barely get a word out because of the pain.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be sacrificing a year or two of my life,” I said in a no-big-deal manner, which, to me, it wasn’t, because Hazel’s well-being was more important than my own life. She was only human, after all, and I, apparently, _wasn’t_. Who really knew how long Time Lords could live up for, but humans only had one life, and that was all they would get. 

I then shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. You need to be healed, or it’s just going to get worse.”

“Of _course_ your life matters!” Hazel said incredulously. “It sounds like you could _die_ after doing this!”

I shook my head. “Not if the light still exists within me. As long as I still possess the energy, I can’t die. I guess that’s part of being ‘Time Lord,’ whatever that is. Hopefully my bio-parents will know. Although, as a female, you’d think I’d be called a Time _Lady_ instead. Or, maybe not. Female humans are still called ‘humans’ instead of ‘huwomen.’” _Damn it, Sydney, stop rambling!_ I groaned in my head. “Sorry, rambling again,” I said out loud. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter how much of my life I’d be sacrificing; I have to heal you _now_.”

I raised my hand in preparation to conjure up the energy, even though it had been over a decade since I had done it last, but this didn’t mean that I had forgotten how to conjure it. The reason why I hadn’t used my energy in so long was because I didn’t want to attract any more danger to our town, certainly not to my family or Hazel. I had promised myself that I was only going to use my energy if I was ever in a life-death situation; and considering what had almost happened with Hazel during Laser Tag, I felt this was one of those instances. Obviously, that laser gun the Sontaran used did a lot of damage to Hazel’s arm, and I doubted any human medicines would heal an injury as severe as hers. This only meant one thing: only _my_ energy—the energy of a Time Lord—would heal her. 

“Wait!” Hazel cried, raising her good arm up to stop me. “What are you going to do?”

“Remember the ‘light’ I told you about?” I asked. After she nodded, albeit uncertainly, I said, “Well…” Shortly after, I made my hand glow gold with the energy. “This is it,” I said, raising my glowing hand. Hazel immediately screamed and shied away from me. “Haze, it’s okay!” I assured her. “It’s not going to hurt you. In fact, it’s going to do the exact opposite. You’ll see.”

“What…” Hazel was speechless, which wasn’t a surprise. “How…”

“It’s complicated,” I sighed sadly. If I was born normal, I wouldn’t have looked like a total freak to her, if that was truly how she was seeing me. Of _course_ seeing someone with glowing hands wasn’t normal. “Do you trust me?”

After spending several moments in seeming indecision, Hazel eventually nodded and scooted back over to me.

I sighed again. “Okay. Hold still.”

I took a deep breath as I gently lowered my glowing hand on her burnt arm. She flinched for just a second, but she composed herself and stayed still like I asked. I kept my hand on the burnt spot until I could see that the injury was completely healed. After a few seconds, I lifted my hand away to reveal her fully mended arm.

“Oh…my… _god_!” Hazel cried in genuine shock as my hand stopped glowing. She felt along her arm as if trying to find any evidence of an injury, but there wasn’t one. It turned out that my energy could make even scars disappear. 

“How does your arm feel?” I asked hesitantly, hoping that Hazel no longer felt any pain. 

“How did you do that?” Hazel asked instead of answering.

I chuckled. “That doesn’t really answer my question. Anyway, to answer yours, I don’t really know; I just did it on command. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“How long have you had this ability?” she asked another question that was similar to the first. 

I shrugged. “Forever, I guess.” This was an honest answer, as I didn’t truly know how I could do something like this, nor where it came from. For a long time, I guessed my powers came from some genetic experiment gone wrong by my bio-parents, but later I started thinking that maybe I was actually born with them. From my research on Regeneration, we didn’t have the technology to allow the human body to completely change its physical form at will, not to mention conjuring up an otherworldly golden light, or even growing in a second heart after the first time. This meant I had to have gotten these abilities from another source—from a source that was not from this planet; but what source from what planet, I didn’t know. Again, this was something I figured only my bio-parents would know, as they must’ve possessed the same abilities; if only I knew who they were and how to find them.

Hazel then got up from her bed and started pacing back-and-forth. “Wow, I have _so_ many questions,” she said.

I laughed. “Well, you’ve already asked two of them. There’s plenty more where that came from. You have all weekend to ask them; of course, you can’t ask them in front of my parents. I broke my promise by sharing this secret to you.” I then paused, feeling a strong sense of guilt hit me like a punch to the gut. “Of course, I may have also attracted danger to our town…again.”

Hazel suddenly stopped her pacing mid-step. “You attracted danger here? How did you do that? And what did you mean, ‘again?’ Are you saying this wasn’t the first time you’ve done this?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I then sighed, feeling the need to confess. “You remember the school intruder saying that there were a lot of beings in the universe that could smell ‘Time Energy’ across the cosmos? Well, I think he was referring to my regeneration energy, the energy I just now showed you. Apparently, every time I use it, there are people out there— _dangerous_ people—that can sense it; and when they do, they immediately come running after it like a moth to a flame. I think that was how the school intruder incident happened. I may have brought him here when I stupidly used my energy to heal a paper cut a few days before.” 

“And now that you used your energy to heal my arm, you think you attracted more dangerous people here?” Hazel asked to clarify what I said.

I shook my head again. “I’m not exactly sure. We won’t know unless the danger actually shows up, which could happen anytime. I’m sorry, Haze. I may have accidentally attracted a dangerous psychopath from another world to your house, and it’s only a matter of time before it shows up.”

“Well, what are you going to do if it does show up?” she asked a bit nervously. I knew she wouldn’t have liked the idea of a dangerous person—or _alien_ —showing up at her house, and I thought she would’ve thought the same way about _me_. Then again, I figured if I protected her with my Martial Arts skills, maybe she’d think differently—that I was an alien that protected her from other aliens. 

I smirked. “I guess I’ll use my black belt to kick its ass, show the sicko that this planet is protected.”

“Surely not just by you,” Hazel pointed out the painfully obvious.

“Oh, no, of course not,” I said, shaking my head; “that’d be too much of a responsibility. I’m sure my parents are working just as hard to protect this planet too. My _bio_ -parents, I mean. If I ever meet them, maybe we could save the world _together_ , as a family. How fantastic would that be?”

Hazel nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that would be very cool.” She then said, changing the subject, “So…a Time Lord… You think that’s what you are; I mean, your _species_? I mean, from what you just showed me, no human being could possibly do something like that. You _can’t_ be human.”

“Would you be surprised if I told you I wasn’t?” I asked a little hesitantly, not knowing how she’d react. “Not that I _know_ I’m not human; it’s just a theory.”

She nodded. “Of course I’d be surprised…” She then shook her head. “But I wouldn’t hate you.”

I perked up at her declaration. “Really? You wouldn’t hate me? Good, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“Of _course_ I wouldn’t hate you,” Hazel said as if it was obvious. “You’re my best friend. I’d still consider you my best friend, even if you were actually a tiny slug in a human suit.”

I suddenly frowned, feeling grossed out at the idea. “Really?” For all I knew, I could’ve been. 

She then thought better. “Okay, maybe not as a slug, but you know what I mean.”

I smiled and wrapped my arms around her in a hug. “Thanks, Haze. You’re the greatest friend anyone—human or non-human—could ask for.” It was the truth. My whole life, I was worried that I would lose my best and only friend if she suddenly decided that she didn’t like the idea of being friends with an otherworldly ‘being,’ like me. I was very grateful to be wrong. 

After a few minutes, I sighed and said, “Wow, this was definitely _not_ how I imagined we would start our ‘well-deserved summer break.’”

Hazel laughed in agreement. “I know, right? First, we ran into peacock, Sam Davies, from school; then, we were almost killed by a psychotic armored dwarf from another world during what was once an innocent game of Laser Tag; and now, you’ve just shared with me the biggest, and possibly most dangerous, secret of your life.”

“Or _lives_ , considering that I’ve lived two so far,” I pointed out.

“Yeah,” Hazel nodded. She then asked curiously, “How many more times do you think you can ‘regenerate,’ as you say?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know. As of right now, that may be the only time. I honestly don’t want to ‘die’ again and find out; the first time was excruciating enough. At least now I know to stay away from aspirin.” This statement briefly made me wonder if _all_ Time Lords had this allergy, or if it was just me. Either way, I knew the damage it caused to my body and planned to _never_ take the med again.

“Right.” She then sighed. “Well, you were right about one thing: there were definitely a lot of things I still didn’t know about you.”

“Did I mention that I also have two hearts?” I said, thinking I’d might as well reveal that secret too. It was only fair, all things considered.

Hazel then frowned, shaking her head in exasperation. “Okay, now you’re just making things up.”

 _Okay, I didn’t expect **that** response_, I thought in shock. I could’ve sworn she’d react in almost the same way as she did with my regeneration energy, but apparently I was wrong. 

“No, I kid you not!” I said with genuine honesty. “You got a stethoscope?” I figured using a stethoscope would be the easiest thing to use as proof to show her my two hearts, but she said she didn’t, so I suggested she put her ear to my chest instead, which she ultimately agreed with, albeit awkwardly, as she seemed to feel a bit uncomfortable by leaning her head against my chest, to which I responded that it wasn’t a big deal.

Without further questions, she placed her ear against my chest for a few seconds, and when she straightened back up, her face bore the expression of shock, which wasn’t a surprise. I then explained my theory about how the second heart appeared, and that they were why I wasn’t allowed to go to hospitals—the reason being that the doctors and nurses would think the extra heart was a birth defect, or something of the sort, and would think to have it removed, which would kill me. I figured my bio-mom had explained this when she handed me over to my foster parents on the night they adopted me.

“Wow,” Hazel said, still genuinely shocked, “you are _definitely_ not human.”

“Unfortunately, I might have to agree,” I sighed sadly.

“Unfortunately?” Hazel asked, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

“I never asked to be born this way,” I explained. “I never asked to be ‘Time Lord,’ whatever that is, and that’s the main problem. I don’t even know what a Time Lord is; I’d never heard of such a thing. For a long time, I thought the name came out of a _Star Trek_ episode, and you’d be surprised how disappointed I was when I found out that wasn’t the case. For years, I’ve been trying to find any and all information on the Time Lords, including my bio-parents, and every time I’ve come up empty-handed. I’m getting sick and tired of not knowing what I am or where I come from. You have no idea what that’s like. Heck, ‘Sydney Elise’ may not even be my real name; for all I know, ‘Nova Susan Song’ might be, if she isn’t my sister. If I were born a normal human, things would make so much more sense. As a Time Lord— _Lady_ , whatever— _nothing_ makes sense to me.”

Everything I said was the truth. My whole life I was raised as a human, simply because I thought I _was_ human; however, this turned out _not_ to be the case. Apparently, my whole life, I was raised as something I wasn’t…something I _never_ was. Apparently, I was never human; instead, I was a _Time Lord_ … _always_ a Time Lord. How was I supposed to be something I was born as but was never raised as, especially when I knew absolutely _nothing_ about them? I was frustrated at this, but I was more terrified than anything else. For all I knew, I was a descendant of one of the most malevolent species in the universe, and I couldn't imagine how people would react to me—how they’d _treat_ me—if they found out. 

Hazel shook her head incredulously. “Syd, you don’t get it. As humans, most things don’t make any sense for us either. We’re all just cooped up in our own problems to really have the patience to understand what really goes on in the world. It’s incredibly hard for us too.” She then put a soothing arm around my shoulder. “And I bet we’re not the only ones with this problem. I bet there are lots of species in the universe that are dealing with the same issue on their planet. This feeling you’re having of not fitting in, it’s completely normal for everyone…no matter what species you are, apparently.”

That seemed to lift my spirits up a bit. Hazel was right, of course. This changed my way of seeing the world so much better. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought of it that way before.

I smiled, wrapping her up in another hug. “Thanks, Haze. You sure know how to make a person happy…even a Time Lord.” This made Hazel laugh as well.

After I released her from our hug, Hazel said incredulously, “Holy bologna, this changes our friendship _so much_! Ever since I met you, I thought you were…well…just like me—normal and human. But you’re _not_! I mean, _you’re not human_! Never in my life would I have thought I’d be friends with an alien.”

“Hey!” I couldn’t help but feel slightly offended at her statement. I guessed I thought the idea seemed downright ludicrous to her.

She then shook her head, thinking better. “Oh, no, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing; it’s a _good_ thing. It’s _awesome_! I’m sure a lot of people would give up anything to be friends with an alien.” She then paused. “Oh, I’m sorry. They’d give up anything to be friends with a _Time Lord_. Being called an ‘alien’ must be really offensive to anyone outside Earth, right?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, probably. If you ever meet my bio-parents, who might be ali— _Time Lords_ —too, be sure to not use that term around them. You wouldn’t want to offend them.”

“Deal,” Hazel laughed as well.

After this conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about my bio-parents, whether or not I would ever meet them, and if they’d take me back if I did. If not, I would at least want to know about my ancestry and where I— _we_ —came from. The idea of not knowing what I was terrified me to my core, and I had often had nightmares about never fitting in or being treated like an outcast, but at least Hazel was willing—or at least _seemed_ to be willing—to still be friends, even if I was a slug in a human suit, as gross as that sounded.

Despite everything, one thing was for sure: I was happy to have a friend like Hazel.


	9. Chapter 8: Doctor Blue Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing the mysterious blue box at the arcade, Nova sees it again in her dream later that night. The next morning, she decides to research the blue box on the Internet, combining it with the word "Doctor," and discovers something extraordinary. Has she finally found out something about her ancestry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: spoilers for Doctor Who episode and novel "Rose."
> 
> Merry Christmas to all of you at home! Here's a new chapter as a gift from me to you.
> 
> Also, so things aren't as confusing in a part in the reading, this chapter takes place during the time when the Doctor has been purposefully deleting himself from history after Silencio. Needless to say, Nova does not know this and won't for a while.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and will also keep me motivated to post more. Even if you don't have anything to say about it besides "great story," I'm totally okay with that. It'd at least let me know you're enjoying the story.

That night, I dreamt of the blue box.

Even though my original plan was to stay awake and defend Hazel and her brother from psychotic extraterrestrials that I may or may not have unintentionally attracted to their house, I must’ve fallen asleep on the job, because the next thing I knew, I was back in my infant body, being carried in the strong arms of my bow tie-wearing bio-father to the large room with the house-key-scraping sound and the bizarre cylindrical column at its center.

Since I was seven, I’ve had this dream on more than one occasion, and everything that happened has been the same, except for as I was growing older in real life, I started noticing some differences. One difference I noticed was that the blurry vision that a typical infant would have would gradually become clearer, and I would start to see the world around me in sharper detail. For example, I had discovered that the strange column had what looked like a collection of teardrops stacked on top of each other and suspended inside a glass cylinder, which were often seen moving up and down in sync with the house-key-scraping noise. The base of the column, about waist-height, had at least five panels that were topped with small buttons and dials, much like the control console of a futuristic steam engine. It was surprising how much more detail I could see as I got older, even through the eyes of an infant, and I supposed that was normal, even for humans. 

Another difference I noticed, at least this time, was that the dream had been extended. This time, instead of the dream ending where my bio-father would hand me over to my bio-mother to have her carry me away from him to who-knows-where, I actually saw where she was taking me. While watching the world over my bio-mom’s shoulder, I saw that she carried me outside the room to a dark place with lots of trees, possibly a forest or park at night, and standing in the middle, but also partially obscured by trees, was a large blue box with lit windows and a sign that bore the words “Police Public Call Box.” It was unlike any box I had ever seen—of course not, because at the time I had only been in the world a few days at most—although, at the same time, I had also felt a sort of familiarity about it, and also a slight sadness, like I was leaving a place that I called home, possibly forever. It wasn’t until my bio-mom had kissed me one last time and handed me over to who would become my foster mother that I woke up, back in my sixteen-year-old body in my best friend’s bedroom.

Thankfully, I didn’t wake up to any alien threats standing over Hazel’s bed, but I did feel a sense of confusion. That blue box I’d seen in my dream didn’t look right. One thing that was obvious about it, and also what was the most confusing about it, was that the box appeared to be bigger on the inside. That large room, which I guessed was a control room of sorts, looked like it had been crammed inside a tiny box that looked no bigger than a garden shed, at least from the outside. For something so small to have a much bigger interior like that was completely impossible… _wasn’t it_ , I wondered?

Unless that box—or rather, _spaceship_ —was from another planet, then maybe it was possible, but it certainly wasn’t possible on this planet; at least, I didn’t _think_ it was. Either way, it was unusual and was definitely something worth looking into, especially since it looked _exactly_ like the blue box Hazel and I saw while we were leaving the arcade; even the four words printed on the sign at the top of each side were the same. 

While Hazel continued to sleep, I quietly hopped on her computer at her desk (I figured she wouldn’t mind) and researched anything and everything to do with police boxes, especially ones that were bigger on the inside. Even though I didn’t find any bigger-on-the-inside boxes ( _typical_ , I thought), I did find information on police boxes in general, one thing being that they were used back in the nineteen-fifties, which Hazel was right about. I even researched what they looked like, and I discovered that they looked almost exactly like the one we saw at the arcade and also in my dream; however, there didn’t seem to be any mention of anyone seeing the boxes appearing and disappearing magically, or spotting them in places people would frequently visit that wouldn’t normally be seen there.

Since this didn’t seem to help me, I then started combining “blue box” with the things I’d been researching throughout my childhood. It wasn’t until I typed “doctor blue box” into the Search Bar that I finally received some promising results. One thing that got my attention right away was the sixth result down, labeled “whoisdoctorwho.co.uk,” which was clearly a European page. I clicked it, and it brought me to a page that bore “HAVE YOU SEEN THE DOCTOR???” in large lettering, along with a photo of a man I didn’t recognize with close-cropped hair and a worn leather jacket, the rest of the photo purposefully blurred out, probably because of copyright or something. Underneath the image was a long text that read, “ _I’m giving you this information so you can see I’m a normal bloke, not a crackpot. But if you’ve come this far, then I suspect you’ve seen him. The Doctor. And if you’ve seen him, then I wonder, was it at a time of great peril? Was there danger? Disaster? Even death? Because these are his harbingers and helpmeets. If you have seen the Doctor, your life has been touched by something extraordinary. And doubtless you’re wondering: who is he? Well, faithful reader, I am here to tell you: I HAVE THE ANSWER!!_ ” and below that, the author’s name (Clive Finch) and his contact info. 

After reading the paragraph, my first thought was that this guy was completely nutty, and I almost ‘X’ed out of the browser right there and then, but when I looked through the paragraph a second time, I realized that the things mentioned, like “disaster” and “death,” were things I had personally experienced, but I had never met any ‘Doctor’ during any of those times, certainly no one that looked like the leather jacket guy in the photo.

I searched through the website some more, and I saw that there was a whole gallery of ‘Doctors,’ each labeled by number, which I thought was odd. At first, I thought these guys would be related in some way, like as part of a family, but when I clicked through each one, I noticed that one man was completely different from the previous one, but yet every photo was similar, showing the men running to or from something, but always running nonetheless; more than that, in several photos, there was a familiar blue box just seemingly hanging out in the background.

It wasn’t until I clicked through the photos labeled “11” that my hearts went into overdrive. These photos showed a face I knew all too well—a man with a cone-shaped yet youthful face, floppy brown hair, and wore a tweed jacket and bow tie. In some photos, he was seen running with three other people—a young man with short light-brown hair, a young woman with bright red hair, and another familiar woman with massively curly hair that looked much like the young man and redheaded woman. Although, sometimes the curly-haired woman was not pictured with the other two, or both the curly-haired woman and Doctor would be seen together, but the other two wouldn’t. I guessed it depended on who the Doctor was travelling with when the photo was taken. 

After looking through all these photos, I realized that the bow tie-wearing ‘Doctor’ looked exactly like the guy in my dream. Based on this fact, one thing stayed in my mind: this man—the Doctor—was my father, and all the other men were his past selves, meaning he could regenerate, just like _me_. He _wasn’t human_ , again just like me. At least, these were just theories, but I was ninety-percent certain they were real.

I couldn’t believe it! I had finally found something that related to my ancestry. I just had to contact this ‘Clive’ guy, and I could finally find out who and what I was; maybe he was close to my father, or at least one of his ‘selves.’

I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. I immediately clicked the link to Clive’s contact info, and I wrote down his number on a sticky-note. Then, I grabbed my phone and crept quietly to the bathroom across the hall, locked myself in, and immediately called the number, but not before checking the time, as the UK was six hours ahead in relation to Central Standard Time. It was about 7am our time, which meant that in the UK it was about 1pm; hopefully I wasn’t going to interrupt his lunchtime.

When I called Clive’s number, I received an error-message, saying that “the call cannot be reached because of [insert list of reasons here],” and I assumed the number had been disconnected somehow. I then checked his site again, as my phone also had Internet-access, and sure enough there was another number that connected with one ‘Caroline Finch,’ whom I assumed was Clive’s wife or relative. I typed in Caroline’s number from memory into my phone and called, and this time there was a proper connection. 

“Hello?” A weary female British voice asked after a few rings.

“Uh…hi,” I answered hesitantly, as I didn’t know whether I had the right number or not. “My name is Sydney Elise. Is this Caroline Finch? Are you related to Clive Finch, who made the website about the Doctor?”

There was a short pause before the woman replied, “Yes, Clive was my husband. If you wish to talk to him, I’m sorry, you can’t.”

I frowned, puzzled. “Um…why not, if you don’t mind my asking?” She said ‘was,’ as if they weren’t together anymore; so obviously something happened between them. However, I was scared to know the answer.

“He passed away about eight years ago,” Caroline answered with a slight choke to her voice, like she was fighting back tears. “Killed right in front of me and my kids by one of those shop-window dummies back in 2005 when they came to life all over the city. I’m sure you heard about that on the news…”

“Um, yes, I did,” I replied, feeling somewhat guilty for making the poor woman relive the memory, “and I’m sorry about what happened to your husband.” From what I heard about the incident back then, many innocent people lost their lives that day, and many more people lost their friends and loved ones, all to shop-window dummies, as ridiculous as that sounded. Someone from another world must’ve been responsible and possessed the mannequins into killing all those people, I thought.

“Um, is it possible we can still talk about that website he made?” I asked, still anxious to know where I came from. “It’s just…I think I had an encounter with the Doctor.” I then paused, realizing that was a half-lie. “Well, not an _actual_ encounter, like, in person. I just feel like I may have some connection with him, or at least _one_ of them, and I hoped Clive could give me some information on how to contact him—the Doctor, I mean.” I purposefully left out my theory that I could be blood-related to the Doctor (that being the so-called ‘connection’), simply because I didn’t want her to think of me as a weirdo. Even if she did think of me that way, I wouldn’t be surprised; many people probably thought of her late husband that way all the time, and anyone who contacted him about his website was probably considered crazy too. I could imagine she and her kids probably dealt with a lot of ridicule over the years because of it.

Caroline chuckled. “You’re just like the last girl who asked about the Doctor.” She then sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, love, but I don’t know much about the website at all. Clive didn’t really tell me much about the Doctor to me or my kids.”

“Oh,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Okay. I understand.”

Before I could hang up, she spoke up, “But I _do_ still have some of what he had found in storage. Needless to say, I’ve been trying to get them off my hands for years since my husband died…since I have no further use for them. If you would like to arrange a meeting, I could give you what you need in person.”

 _Oh, good_ , I thought excitedly in my head, _I haven’t hit a total dead-end_.

“Oh…” I then paused, remembering where I was in the world, and I realized that meeting in person would be difficult, as we were on opposite sides of the planet. “I would love to, but I don’t actually live in England,” I explained. “I live in America. Is it possible you could mail me the information if I give you my address?”

“I would be glad to,” Caroline said happily. After she politely asked for my address, and I gave it to her, she asked, “Is there a specific Doctor, or Doctors, you’d like to research?”

I thought about it for a minute. There was at least one Doctor I was more interested in learning about—that being number 11 in the tweed jacket and bow tie—but I figured that if I researched _all_ of them, they would give me a better understanding of who he was and whether my theory that these men were actually the same person from different times was true.

“Um…not really,” I answered. “Would _all_ of them be okay?”

“ _All_ of them?” she asked, puzzled and shocked. “Are you sure?” She asked that as if there was a lot more information than I was expecting, and she was warning me that that was the case, but I didn’t care. I needed to know _everything_ about this guy…or _guys_. 

“Yes,” I said confidently. “I…uh…” I then paused, struggling to come up with a believable explanation, but also one that didn’t make her think of me as a kook. “I’m very interested in learning about this guy’s history, seeing as I’m very into history as well.” _Wow, Sydney_ , I shook my head at myself incredulously. **_That’s_** _the best excuse you can come up with?_ “Plus, you said you wanted everything off your hands, correct?” I added to make up for my lame excuse.

“Yes, that is correct,” Caroline answered, although I wasn’t sure if it was in a tone that suggested I was just as crazy as her late husband. “Very well. I’ll have everything I can find on the Doctor sent to you within the week, if I can.”

“I appreciate that very much,” I thanked her from the bottoms of my hearts. Of course, she had no idea how much this meant to me, seeing that she wasn’t obviously aware of my secret. “Again, I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you, Sydney,” Caroline answered in a weary tone. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” I replied before hanging up.

I then slapped myself against my forehead with my phone angrily. _Good going, doofus_ , I chastised myself, _you just made her upset, having to relive all those memories of her husband’s death. Now there’s no doubt she’ll tell all her friends what a complete idiot you are. You may have two hearts, but you have zero brains, especially in the Sympathy Division._

If I was honest with myself, I probably deserved it, but it was worth getting all that information on someone who may or may not be blood. Once I got all that information, I was going to be one step closer to finding out what and who I was, which excited and terrified me at the same time. I was excited to finally find out my true origins after countless years of not knowing, but I was terrified of what I might find out about my ancestry. If it was true that I came from a long line of the most malevolent beings in the universe, I dreaded to find out what sorts of things the Time Lords were responsible for in the past; who knows, maybe my ancestors were a part of all of those things too, and I may be forced to continue that legacy as the ‘next’ Time Lord ( _Lady_ ). I seriously hoped that _wasn’t_ the case, depending on what I found out.

An abrupt knock at the bathroom door startled me from my thoughts. “Syd? You in there?” Hazel asked in a concerned tone.

I got up and opened the door. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just on a phone call from someone in England. I was asking about a website I had discovered not too long ago. You won’t believe what I found on there.”

“Yeah, I saw the site on my computer,” Hazel nodded. “Is everything alright? From the website, it looked like you were looking up a doctor.”

I shook my head. “Not just any doctor. I think I may have found some clues about my father. My _bio_ -father.”

“Really?” Hazel said, genuinely shocked. “You’ll have to show me later.”

“Why wait?” I asked, puzzled. “Everything’s still up on your computer.”

“Because I’m hungry,” Hazel replied, and I swore I heard her stomach rumble just then.

“Okay,” I nodded. As anxious as I was to show her what I found, filling an empty stomach was more important. “Me too, actually,” I said, suddenly feeling my own stomach rumble. “You got any fruit?”

“Yeah, we have a whole fruit bowl in the kitchen,” Hazel said as I followed her downstairs.

As we past the living room, I saw the news playing on TV that mentioned a break-in at somebody’s house in Shawnee, which was a town not far from where we lived. Since it didn’t sound as exciting to me (if an alien broke into the house, I would’ve been more interested), I went straight to the kitchen toward the fruit bowl.

When I entered the kitchen, Hazel’s brother Harrison (or Harry for short) was there, waiting by the toaster.

“You guys are up early,” He said, glaring at Hazel as if she was a criminal, possibly like the one mentioned in the news.

“What’s it to you?” Hazel replied in a careless tone. “We’re just getting food.”

“I know,” her brother replied sheepishly, “It’s just…on weekends, you usually don’t come down this early. Oh, hey, Syd—I mean, _Sydney_.” He regarded me as if seeing me for the first time.

Suddenly remembering what Hazel said about her brother having slight affections for me, but I had no interest in him whatsoever, I just replied with an apathetic “Hi.” I then grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and washed it in the sink.

“How…uh…how are you?” Harry asked awkwardly, but I paid no attention to him, as I was washing my apple before eating it.

“Fine,” I answered in the exact same way as when I said ‘hi’ before, before taking a bite, only to realize that the apple tasted off. I immediately spit it back out and glanced down at the fruit, and after closer inspection I realized that I had grabbed a pear instead, which was the one fruit in the universe that I deeply hated. “ _Ugh_ ,” I groaned before I threw the pear in the trash and grabbed a banana instead, which was my absolute favorite fruit.

“You don’t like pears?” Harry said in an incredulous tone.

“No,” I answered as I took a bite from my banana. “They’re _disgusting_. Who in their right mind would want to eat those?”

“I do,” Hazel’s brother said a bit disappointedly. “They’re my favorite fruits.”

“Oh,” I said with a shrug. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but they’re not my favorites. I hate them. I like bananas more.”

“Really?” Harry said with a smile. “Bananas are my favorites too!”

“I thought you said pears were,” I said with a raised eyebrow.

Harry paused. “Uh…they’re my _second_ favorite fruits; bananas are my top favorite fruits. So are you!” He then paused. “I mean, you love bananas too; we have that in common. We should eat a banana together.”

I almost choked on the piece of banana I was eating. _‘We should eat a banana together,’ as in, we take turns eating from the **same** banana? Yeesh! No thanks!_ I thought in disgust. It was now obvious that he fancied me, but I wasn’t going to feel the same way about him anytime soon…if at _all_.

“Uh…I think I’ll stick with my _own_ banana, thank you very much,” I said before shaking my head incredulously and backing away from him awkwardly.

“Hey, Syd, you might want to see this!” Hazel cried from the living room. “They’re talking about what happened yesterday at the arcade, and _we’re on camera_!”

“What?!” I exclaimed as I threw my banana peel in the trash and joined her in front of the TV. A small part of me thanked Hazel for the distraction away from her socially awkward brother.

Sure enough, we were caught on camera yesterday. “Yowzah, that _is_ us!” I said in shock. The news was showing archive footage of a moment during our Laser Tag game when Hazel was seconds away from being killed by the Sontaran. On the CCTV, the Sontaran was seen standing over Hazel with its gun trained on her. There wasn’t any audio, but I could tell this was the moment when it was declaring to Hazel that she was not the so-called ‘Time Lord female’ it was looking for and was demanding her to tell it where she— _I_ —was. Off to the side, at the bottom right corner of the screen, I saw myself—or rather my back—hiding behind the wall, about to whack the Sontaran on the back of the neck, therefore saving Hazel’s life.

While the footage was still rolling, the newscaster was talking about how terrifying the situation seemed to be ( _you have no idea_ , I thought in my head as a response), and how heroic “the mystery girl” (she being _me_ ) was when she had saved "the other girl" (Hazel) from certain death. This comment brought a smile to my face and an overwhelming sense of pride wash over me, but it didn't bring a smile to Hazel's face.

"Oh, you get to be 'the mystery girl' and I get 'the other girl,'" she said disapprovingly, which almost made me fail fighting back a snort. I only shrugged.

“Whoa!” Hazel’s brother exclaimed in shock when the footage showed me knock the Sontaran out with my laser gun, “you sure knocked the sense out of that guy. That armor looked impossible to smash through. How did you manage that?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, still in shock from the footage, and the disbelief that I never thought there’d be security cameras everywhere in the arena. Then again, of _course_ there would be; the employees had to make sure the players weren’t breaking any rules during the game, right?

“Just be thankful you still have a sister, dimwit,” Hazel pointed out. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for Syd.” That was true. If I hadn’t whacked the Sontaran out when I did, there would’ve been a high chance she wouldn’t have survived.

Just then, the newscaster showed pictures of two people I recognized from that day—Brian and Cyrus—and announced the unfortunate fact that they didn’t make it out of there alive. Thankfully, they hadn’t mentioned Sam as another casualty, but regardless, a massive wave of guilt washed over me in that moment, almost stopping both hearts cold.

“Crap, they _did_ die,” Hazel said in shock. “That’s so sad.”

“Yeah…” I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat and my eyes watering with tears. “I could’ve saved them.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Hazel shook her head in disbelief that I was responsible for their deaths.

“No,” I shook my own head, “but I should’ve paid more attention.” I then got up and ran back upstairs to Hazel’s room in tears, my guilt reaching its peak.

“Syd!” Hazel cried as she chased after me.

“Wait, guys, there’s more!” I heard her brother call from downstairs. “They’re now talking about two people that showed up after you guys left; a woman with curly hair and a man in a bow—” I didn’t get to hear the rest of what he was saying, as I had shut Hazel’s door behind me and collapsed on the floor next to her bed and cried.

Two seconds later, Hazel came in and closed the door behind her, out of breath from running up the stairs after me. “Syd, what’s wrong?” she asked as she sat down on the floor next to me.

“I’m sorry, Haze,” I sobbed. “You were almost killed because of me. I was stupid to make you stay put. I should’ve told you to run.” Suddenly thinking of Brian and Cyrus, I muttered, “I should’ve told _them_ to run.”

“Syd, listen to me!” Hazel shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It _was_ ,” I insisted. “If I’d told them to run… If I’d acted as Cyrus’s shield…”

“Then _you_ would’ve been killed…” Hazel finished my sentence. “Or at the very least, you would’ve ‘ _regenerated_.’”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “Don’t you see? The guy was after _me_ , not you…or Brian, or Cyrus, or Sam. If he’d captured me, he would’ve let the rest of you go; he would’ve let you _live_. If I’d turned myself in to him, Brian and Cyrus would still be alive.” Even if the Sontaran refused to leave any survivors, I would’ve convinced it to change its mind in the most peaceful manner possible so that everything would be fair for everyone; the Sontaran could’ve escaped with his prize (the prize being me), and everyone else could’ve escaped with their lives. 

Hazel shook her head. “No, Syd, you can’t think like that. Who knows what he would’ve done to you otherwise. You had no idea that was going to happen; _none_ of us had any idea.” She then placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I know you feel guilty about their deaths…and frankly, so do I. I could’ve done something to stop him from killing them, but I was too scared. I guess we’re _both_ to blame here, but we can’t let this keep us from moving on. Cyrus and Brian’s death was an accident, but we can’t do anything to fix it; the only thing we can do is move on from it.”

She was right. Nothing and no one could bring Brian and Cyrus back, but we could avenge their deaths by moving on with our own lives. I figured, even in death, Brian and Cyrus would’ve wanted everyone to do that anyway.

“You’re right,” I said after a few minutes of silence. “Thanks, Haze.”

“No way I’m gonna let you carry this guilt alone,” Hazel declared. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

I shook my head in slight disagreement. “Haze, you don’t have to do that; not when you had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t care,” she argued. “If you go down, I go down with you; it’s what friends do. It’s already decided, and there’s no way you’re gonna change my mind.”

I sighed. She was _serious_! No matter what faults I made, Hazel would take the blame too, even when she had no hand in it. No non-human, like me, deserved a friend like her.

I smiled. “You’re the greatest friend ever, Haze.”

She smiled back. “As are you… _Time Lady_.” We both laughed. It was nice to know she still accepted me as her friend, whether I was human or not. “Anyway, did you want to show me what you found about your father?” she asked, glancing up at her computer, which had the webpage still up and running; although, there was something different about it…something _missing_.

“Yeah.” Wiping my eyes dry, I went back over to the computer, and Hazel pulled up another chair next to me. When I looked at the webpage closely, I noticed that the photo of the leather jacket guy had disappeared, leaving a massive space between the heading and description paragraph. I frowned, thinking this was odd, as we were only away from the computer for five minutes, six at most.

“‘Have you seen the Doctor…’” Hazel read the heading aloud. She paused another thirty seconds, reading the description silently. After she finished reading the paragraph, she frowned. “That’s a little creepy. It sounds like this guy could be dangerous. According to this, he brings disaster and death wherever he goes.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was creepy too, even _mad_. But when I looked through these photos, I thought differently. You’ll see the men seem to be running either to or from danger. Check these out.” I clicked on the tab to the gallery and clicked on the ‘11’ folder, but I found all the photos missing. I frowned again. “What the heck? Where did the photos go? They were all right here five minutes ago.” I clicked on the ‘10’ folder, only to find those photos gone as well. “ _Seriously_? They were literally here not five minutes ago! What happened to them?”

“Maybe they got deleted somehow,” Hazel shrugged.

“But _why_?” I sighed. “Why would someone do that? And _who_?” I clicked through more folders, but it seemed that every single image of this mysterious Doctor had been purposefully removed from the website; more than that, they seemed to have been removed from the entire Internet. I groaned. “I’m not crazy; they were all right here. There were _tons_ of photos, all of different men, but they all went by the same title of ‘the Doctor,’ and one of them…” I paused, feeling indecisive at first to tell her about my dream, but I ultimately decided to tell her anyway. “I saw him in my dream last night; it was the eleventh one. He wore a tweed jacket and bow tie, and in some photos he was seen with a curly-haired woman, the same woman I told you about yesterday. I’d show you what they looked like, but…” I gestured to the almost blank webpage, showing proof that I had nothing to show.

“It’s okay,” Hazel assured me. “Maybe we can find him in another website.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I doubt we will. Those might be deleted too. Question is, who is deleting them, and why?” I then realized something. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Caroline said she’d mail me everything her late husband had of the Doctor. I bet most of what they had printed in boxes was also in the website; in which case, we’ll see all the photos once they get shipped to my house.”

Of course, when something got accidentally (or purposefully) deleted, it was important to have a backup copy elsewhere, right?

“Great,” Hazel smiled. “I’d love to see them when they arrive. Maybe we’ll find out who you really are and where you really come from _together_.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “My thoughts exactly!”

I couldn’t wait until I got everything from Caroline Finch. Although, I had to wait a whole week, possibly longer, but I had preferred to have them by that night so I could spend the time researching without my foster parents finding out. I hated having to lie to them again, even if they did find out I’d told Hazel my big secret. Who knew what they’d say if they found out I was researching ‘the Doctor,’ which my foster parents said was also my bio-dad’s name. Thinking back on my dream, I wasn’t sure what my bio-dad meant when he said he was giving me up to protect me from himself, but I figured this information from Clive’s website (and more) would help me understand everything; maybe they’ll include the possible ‘danger’ my bio-dad was running to or from in the photos. 

It wasn’t until a week and a half later that I finally got the information on the Doctor shipped to my house, and of course, I kept everything from my foster parents like I planned. Luckily, they weren’t the type of parents that would be nosy and insist on knowing absolutely everything that their children—adopted or not—did while they were or weren’t in their room, so I was confident that they wouldn’t discover this stuff, which I had kept hidden under my bed.

For two nights straight, I researched solely on this mysterious Doctor—especially the Eleventh Doctor—and the more I researched, the surer I felt that he was my biological father. I even started developing the theory that he was a Time Lord too, simply because I had noticed in other photos of the other men that their mannerisms were almost the exact same; they were always running. These other men had to be his past selves from past regenerations.

As promised, I invited Hazel over to share with her what I had discovered, and, as expected, she was shocked.

“Wow, there is a lot of information on this guy…” she said as she looked through the pictures of the Doctor’s past selves. “And you think all these men are actually just _one_ person? More than that, you think this guy is your _father_?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he _must_ be. Clive’s wife said so, I mean about the ‘men actually being one person’ thing. In her letter she sent with this stuff, she said her husband was obsessed with this guy, this ‘Doctor.’ She even said her husband had spent his whole life, even after they married, researching everything to do with ‘the Doctor’ and was looking for ways to find him and meet him in person, but it never happened because he was killed by one of those shop-window dummies in his town when they came to life back in 2005. Needless to say, that was the worst night of his wife’s life, same for her kids.”

Hazel nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I bet. But how does she know—I mean, how did her _husband_ know—these guys are actually the same person?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” I shrugged. “Clive’s wife just said he noticed that these other guys used the same title of ‘the Doctor,’ which, to be honest, doesn’t really prove anything.”

“True,” Hazel nodded in agreement. “Just because they all share the same title doesn’t mean they’re the same person.”

“Exactly,” I confirmed. “But then I started thinking, ‘what if they actually _are_ the same person?’ In other words, ‘what if they’re just like _me_?’ Like, what if they can _regenerate_ , and these other guys are his past selves?”

Hazel frowned uncertainly. “I don’t know, Syd. This all sounds like wishful thinking to me.”

I sighed. “It probably is, but maybe it isn’t. My foster parents told me my bio-father went by the same title. And, get this!” I found an image of the Eleventh Doctor and showed it to her. “This guy right here, he looks exactly like the guy that was caught in that footage from the Laser Tag arena last week. The floppy haircut, the cone-shaped face, the tweed jacket, the bow tie…it’s all the same. Trust me, I’ve seen the footage a million times after someone had reposted it online. I could show you.”

I remembered how surprised I was when I saw the footage. A part of me even regretted leaving the arcade when we did. I could’ve met the Doctor if we’d stayed, but Hazel was injured, and of course, her health and safety was more important at the time. _Stupid Sontaran_ , I thought angrily.

“No, it’s okay,” Hazel declined my offer. “I believe you. I’ve seen it too…but not a million times.”

“My foster parents also mentioned that my bio-dad wore this exact same clothing,” I added. “Although, I didn’t show them this picture; they actually don’t know I have all this stuff.”

“Why haven’t you told them?” she asked curiously.

I frowned. “Are you kidding? They’d _flip out_ if they’d found out I’ve been researching my bio-parents. They wouldn’t approve of _any_ of this. They’d probably burn all this stuff if they found it.” I then sighed. “I can’t lie to them…not _again_. I’ve broken their promise about keeping my non-humanness a secret already; if they’d found out I’ve been researching my bio-parents behind their backs…” I felt a shudder run down my spine in that moment. “I can’t have them take all this stuff away. All this…this is the only thing I have of my bio-parents; the only thing I have of _finding_ them, of knowing who and what I am. I _need_ to know what I am, or I’m…I’m _nothing_.”

Hazel shook her head in disagreement. “You’re not nothing. You’re a freaking _Time Lady_ —a Lady of Time, whatever that is…with _two_ hearts, I might add. That sounds like a pretty badass title, even more so than ‘Doctor,’ don’t you think?”

I smiled. “Yeah.” I then paused, realizing something. “Speaking of ‘Time Lords,’ I think I understand why we’re called that. Check this out.” I showed a pic of the Doctor in the leather jacket—the one which was labeled ‘09’—taken in a large crowd, watching a man and a woman dressed in pink riding in a long black limousine. “This was obviously taken just seconds before President JFK’s assassination in 1963, but look there…” I pointed to the Doctor’s circled face. “There he is, one of ‘the Doctor’s’ past selves. Take a good, long look at his face and clothing.” I gave Hazel a few seconds to memorize the face, and after that time was spent, I said, “Okay, and now check _this_ out.” I showed another pic of the same man taken from an older time, this time pictured with a couple that appeared to be dressed in attire from the early 1900s.

“Whoa…” Hazel said, her eyes bulging in shock.

I nodded. “Yeah, see? It’s the same guy; the _exact_ same guy.”

“How is that possible?” she asked. “Are they, like, related, or something?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s the same person; you can tell by the clothing. And if you look closely at his face… _he hasn’t aged a day_.”

“How can he be in two different times that are _decades_ apart and not age?” she asked with a puzzled frown.

“I think…” I then paused, thinking Hazel would think this statement to be ridiculous. When I first thought of the theory the previous night, even _I_ thought it was preposterous, but if it was true this guy wasn’t human, like me, then maybe it _was_ possible. “I think he’s a time-traveler,” I admitted my theory anyway.

“ _What_?” Hazel laughed, which wasn’t surprising to me at all. “A _time-traveler_? Are you kidding? That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I wish I was, but I’m not. One more thing…” This time, I showed an image of one of the Doctors standing outside a familiar blue box. “You recognize that box?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s the same one from last week.”

I nodded as well. “Uh-huh, and check this out.” I showed several other photos of different Doctors with the same blue box in the background. “It’s in all of these pics from totally different times. You realize what that means, right?”

“Don’t tell me that blue box is a _time-machine_ ,” Hazel scoffed in disbelief.

I nodded. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m telling you. It makes sense! How else would it appear in all these times, again, not showing a single sign of aging?”

Hazel shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know, Syd. I mean, this is all quite fascinating, but…it can’t be _real_. From what you told me about that lady’s husband, he sounded like a real whack-job—a _kook_. Who’s to say all these articles were just fanfictions that were written by twelve-year-old kids, and this alien ‘Doctor’ was their main protagonist? I’ll admit, I’ll give them props for their creativity.”

I shook my head in disagreement. “I don’t think this is fanfiction; this has to be real. Come on, Haze, you saw the box in the parking lot; you said it’s never been there before until that day. As big as it was, how can one man lift that thing with his own two hands?”

“He had help?” Hazel shrugged. “There was a woman with him. They must’ve lifted the thing together.”

“Yes, but why would they waste time lifting the box, taking it there, and then running into the arcade to handle the Sontaran?” I pointed out. “I’m telling you, that box _isn’t_ an ordinary box. It’s _got_ to be alien; or rather, _Time Lord_.”

“So…what, Time Lords control Time, or something?” Hazel asked, puzzled.

I shook my head. “I don’t think they ‘control’ it, per se; more like they keep Time in order. Like, they travel to different times and places and make sure nothing tries to change what’s supposed to happen there. You know, like the Apollo 11 Launch that happened on July 16, 1969, or the signing of the Declaration of Independence on August 7, 1776. They’re in charge of making sure events like these are not changed in any way, or the world today would be much different. At least, that’s what I think they do.”

 _That’s what **we** do_, I corrected myself in my head. Thinking back on it, the idea sounded pretty cool, especially if I would possibly be doing something like this as a future career. I could become famous by simply saving an important event, such as the two I listed, from being changed; it just depended on whether or not I was witnessed doing it.

Hazel nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” She then shrugged. “Well, if you ever see that blue box in our neighborhood, be sure to let me know so I know you’re not crazy.”

“I’m _not_ crazy!” I insisted. I then sighed, admitting, “Granted, we didn’t see it magically appear out of nowhere.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to find out where it’s going to ‘magically appear’ next and have our cameras ready,” Hazel teased.

“I doubt it’ll be that simple,” I chuckled as well, shaking my head. “I have a feeling it won’t just appear at your beck-and-call; it’s much more complicated than that. More like we’ll have to be at the right place at the right time.”

Hazel shook her head disappointedly. “Well, I guess we missed our opportunity last time. Blame the Sultan for almost shooting my arm off.”

I laughed. “Yeah. If the box does appear again, we’ll be sure to stick around this time, no matter what danger we’re in.” Hazel laughed as well.

After my declaration, I felt more determined to find out the mystery of the blue box and the true identities of my bio-parents. Now, I wanted more than ever to find them…if ever.


	10. Chapter 9: The Truth Revealed/Confirmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the end of high school comes graduation. After the grad ceremony, Nova briefly sees both of her bio-parents in person. Little does she know, a week later, her entire universe is turned upside down when the truth finally comes out. How will Nova (no longer Sydney) react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point in the chapter, there are lyrics to the Chris Daughtry song “Call Your Name.” Of course, all credit goes to him, but for the sake of the story, Nova wrote the song herself for her foster parents. If you haven’t heard the song before, check it out. 
> 
> Also, brief spoilers for Doctor Who episode “Let’s Kill Hitler.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t see the blue box over the next two years. I had searched high and low for any signs of its appearance, both in public and online. I had even had the courage to speak to a handful of neighbors about whether or not they’d seen the blue box, and nothing. I briefly wondered if the person who was responsible for deleting any and all information on the mysterious ‘Doctor’ was responsible for deleting anything to do with the box as well. If that was the case, I hoped to find whoever was responsible so I could get him/her to return everything about them back online, but something in the back of my mind told me this was going to be a longshot. If I couldn’t find anything on the blue box, how was I going to find my bio-parents? Apparently, jerks like these never make it easy, which was the unfortunate truth. I eventually shrugged the idea off, thinking that the blue box will just show up whenever it shows up, which could happen at any time.

 _Why does everything have to be so mysterious?_ I thought dismally, _and why do I always have to wait to find out stuff? I hate being patient. Patience is for wimps_.

It wasn’t until graduation finally came that things started to make more sense, but at the same time, other things were starting to get more complicated, particularly my own true identity. 

Of course, graduation was one of the best times of my life. I graduated with the highest GPA of every graduating Senior, and because of that, I was chosen as the Valedictorian for the graduating class of 2015, which was a huge honor. With my cap and gown, I was given a gold medal to wear at the graduation ceremony, and I was also responsible for giving the closing speech at the end (which I had to write all on my own), which set my nerves on edge, as speaking in front of a large crowd of over a thousand people was _not_ my strong suit, but it surprisingly went very well. After my closing speech, I joined the school choir for the last time to sing our school’s alma mater, with me as the lead singer (no surprise there). As if being under the spotlight wasn’t enough to set my hearts into overdrive.

When the ceremony was finally over, we left the auditorium and rejoined all of our friends and families, as well as received our proper print-out diplomas (when the Board announced our names, we were given an empty folder that would hold our diplomas).

“Can you believe it, Syd?” Hazel cried excitedly as she tackled me in a ginormous hug. “We’re high school graduates! _Finally_!”

“I know, right?” I agreed with equal excitement. “Freedom, here we come!” Of course, in the real world, you’d get more freedom to do what you want, whenever you want, and not be told otherwise, which wasn’t a privilege we were given in high school; even in your free time, there were still some strict rules you had to follow.

“Ha! Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Hazel sniggered. “Also, if I might add…no more crappy cafeteria food.”

I laughed as well. “Yeah, that’s true too. Apparently, cafeterias don’t have the word ‘freshness’ as part of their vocabulary.” Need I have said more?

Hazel laughed again, then murmured, “By the way, excellent job on that closing speech. You sure inspired a lot of people to ‘learn to accept change and embrace it like an old friend.’ I bet you were thinking about your ‘secret’ when you wrote that in your paper.”

That was true. When I wrote that bit in my paper, I suddenly wondered if this was— _is_ —what Time Lords had to think about when it came time for them to regenerate. I imagined it would be difficult to accept a new body right away, whether one was originally ready to regenerate or not. I wondered if my bio-parents dealt with this sort of thing. Somehow, I knew _I_ would in the years to come. 

I nodded. “To be honest, I _was_ thinking about it. Of course, no one would’ve figured that out…” I paused. “No one except _you_ …and my foster parents, of course.” I then sighed heavily. “I’m also surprised that I didn’t pass out. Public Speaking is _so_ not my forte.”

Hazel shook her head. “That may be so, but you made a tremendous impact on a lot of people’s lives. I could tell some people got all teary-eyed, even Jacob Macdonald, who _never_ gets emotional.”

I chuckled, thinking better. “ _Huh_. If I can make even Spock emotional, then maybe I _do_ have a way with words, after all.”

Throughout high school, Jacob Macdonald was known as Spock, simply because he often seemed to have absolutely _no_ emotion, as well as having pointy ears, much like the Vulcans in _Star Trek_. I never understood why he always seemed to have no time for fun, but one thing that was funny about Jacob was that he hated _Star Trek_ , despite being called Spock for four years straight.

“I should think so,” Hazel agreed. “I’d definitely vote you as ‘The Girl Who Makes the Most Inspirational Speeches.’”

I smiled. “Aw, thanks, Haze. I’d definitely vote _you_ as ‘The Girl Who Always Knows What to Say to Make Humans and Non-Humans Happy.’” She smiled as well.

As I wrapped my arms around her in an even tighter hug, I suddenly got the sense that I was being watched. More than that, I was being watched by someone that was just like _me_ —someone who was _another Time Lord_ ; although, how I knew that, I had no idea. I glanced over, and I saw a familiar man in a tweed jacket and bow tie standing with an even more familiar curly-haired woman at his side. The woman had one hand on her male counterpart’s shoulder and the other hand on his chest, presumably over one of his hearts, if he had two, like me. They both smiled warmly at me.

A part of me wanted to take Hazel and walk away from them, as they were complete strangers to me, but another part of me wanted to stay, knowing this couple wasn’t dangerous. I mean, if they _were_ dangerous, they would’ve tried attacking us, right?

Suddenly, something unexpected happened. A male voice spoke to me in my head, and somehow I knew it was the voice that belonged to the man in the bow tie, and it was also one I’d recognized from my dream. What was even stranger was that when he spoke, his mouth was _not_ moving; he was speaking _telepathically_. 

_Congratulations, Nova_ , he said in a British, but also one that sounded incredibly ancient for his age, accent, sounding like he was standing right next to me and not twenty feet away from me. _We are so proud of you, and we love you ‘til the end of Time_.

Feeling a bit creeped out, I responded in my head as a question, _Thank you?_ I refrained from saying that I loved them back, since I didn’t know who these strangers were; how could I love someone I didn’t even know? A large crowd of high school graduates and families alike walked past the mysterious man and woman, blocking them from my vision, and when the crowd completely past, the man and woman were gone.

 _Typical_ , I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“What is it, Syd?” Hazel asked with concern in her young voice, unlike the man’s.

I frowned, deciding whether or not to follow to see where they went, but I ultimately decided not to; what would be the point if they disappeared, like the woman often did whenever I tried talking to her? “Nothing. I just…” I turned back to Hazel slowly. “I thought I saw _them_. My biological mother, River Song, and that ‘Doctor.’” I decided to call him ‘Doctor,’ since I was still unsure whether he was my bio-father or not.

“Where?” Hazel asked as she looked around, puzzled.

I pointed in the general direction of where I saw them. “They were over there, but they disappeared with a large crowd.” I sighed. “Of _course_ they did; no doubt my mother got him into the whole ‘disappearing act’ as well. I really wish they’d stop doing that. They’re not exactly putting on a good first impression; if anything, it’s a _creepy_ one.”

Hazel shrugged. “I’m sure they don’t mean to be creepy,” she said in an assuring tone. “You once said that they were avoiding you simply because it wasn’t yet the right time to talk. Obviously, now isn’t that time, since they left.”

I sighed again. “Yeah, well I really wish it was the time to talk. I need to know who they are, especially if they might be dangerous.” I then murmured in Hazel’s ear, “I mean, the man said in my dream that he gave me up to protect me from himself, but I just saw him standing right over there. Why would he appear to me if he wants to keep me from himself? It doesn’t make sense.” I then paused, realizing something. “Then again, if he truly was dangerous, why would he congratulate me and tell me he loves me?”

That in itself didn’t make any sense. As far as I knew, dangerous people typically didn’t care about anyone; they certainly wouldn’t _love_ anyone. The more I thought about it, the greater the mystery that seemed to be surrounding this tweed-clad Doctor and his curly-haired companion, whose faces looked much like my own.

“What?” Hazel asked, puzzled, and I then realized that she obviously didn’t hear the man’s voice; only _I_ did, possibly because it was meant for only Time Lord ears to hear. Either that, or only strong telepathic minds—like mine, apparently—could hear his message.

I abruptly shook my head, believing the whole ‘telepathy’ thing to be ridiculous. “Never mind, let’s just find our parents. Our _true_ parents, I mean.”

We were able to find both of our parents, and along the way I was congratulated by many of my former classmates and their families on a job well done on becoming the Valedictorian of our class, as well as succeeding in presenting my farewell speech at the ceremony. I even was congratulated by Sam Davies, which was a _huge_ surprise, what with how self-absorbed he was, but in the end I didn’t care; at least he was genuinely proud of me and less of himself. Once we found our families, we stayed a little while longer and then went our separate ways; although, I was definitely going to see Hazel again many more times over the summer before college. 

Even long before graduation, I had applied for many colleges across the country, as well as a few in The United Kingdom, as I was thinking of studying abroad there even for my first year (as well as finding my bio-parents, of course, since I had a theory that they lived there); and even long before I found out I was going to be the Valedictorian of my graduating class, I got accepted into the majority of them (as well as being offered a few legit scholarships from some), mainly because of my already-high GPA. Now, I’d most likely be accepted into any college I wanted, especially as the Valedictorian. Most colleges only chose the smartest students to attend, but I personally wasn’t worried, what with my big Einstein brain.

The big question was: would they be willing to accept a _Time Lord_ into their university, especially if they needed proof of my identity? 

I then shook my head. _You’re overthinking things again, Sydney_ , I sighed to myself. _They’re not going to need any medical information from you to allow you to attend. All they care about is general grades and ACT scores_. _They don’t care what species you are, as long as you’re responsible and smart_. This thought sent a wave of relief down my spine, because, luckily for me, I was both.

By a week after graduation, I had applied to almost every university in both America and England, and I had been accepted into almost all of them. Now, it was just a matter of choosing which university to attend, which would determine my immediate future.

Although, how far would I go before everyone found out I wasn’t human, and they would send me to Area 51 (or wherever they took illegal aliens) to be needlessly experimented on for the rest of my life, or at least until I ran out of regenerations? I honestly couldn’t imagine anything worse. 

However, it wasn’t until later that same day, when my life had turned completely upside down.

I was in my room, taking a break from applying for more colleges by practicing my guitar-playing. A few years earlier, I had learned to write my own songs, and now I was practicing a new song I had written for my foster parents.

“ _Can you hear me…when I call your name_ …” I sang as I strummed along on my guitar, but then I was interrupted by an abrupt knock on my bedroom door.

“Nov— _Sydney_ , sweetheart?” I heard my mother’s voice as she slowly opened the door. “Can we talk to you?”

I immediately stopped playing and looked over to see both of my parents entering my room. “Yeah, I’m just practicing.” As I set my guitar aside, I noticed the nervous looks on both my parents’ faces, and a massive chill ran down my spine. “What’s up?” I asked, feeling a bit concerned.

Mom closed my door and sat on my bedside. “Your father and I have something we need to discuss with you,” she said with a slight shake to her voice, “and it’s something we know you’ve been waiting your whole life to talk about.”

In that moment, I knew exactly what she meant. _Oh, boy…this is it, isn’t it?_ I thought with a shudder. _They’re about to confirm I was never human_. I had been both anxious for and dreading this moment for at least fifteen years, and now it was finally happening. 

“And now that you’re eighteen and have graduated,” Dad continued, “we think it’s time to tell you the truth about where you really come from.”

 _Yup_ , I thought, my anxiety increasing, _this is definitely it_.

But I couldn’t take it. “Which isn’t Earth,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

Mom suddenly paused, glancing uncertainly at Dad. “Um…what, honey?”

“That’s the truth, isn’t it?” I asked, my anxiety now reaching its peak. “I’m not really from Earth; in fact, I was _never_ born on this planet. I was actually born elsewhere, which makes me _not human_. That would explain my regenerative powers and the fact my IQ is much higher than the average human of my age.”

My parents continued glancing at each other. “How do you know all this?” Dad asked with a frown.

I shook my head. “I didn’t. I was just waiting for you to confirm it all. But I can tell you where I got all my theories from. You wanna know how I found out?”

They looked almost terrified now, like I had suddenly become a true alien with tentacles, or horns, or whatever they were picturing my physical form with. It was highly disturbing, but it was like something else had taken over my mouth and made me say all these things, and I had no control.

“How?” Mom asked, looking more terrified than ever.

I sighed as I explained everything. “The truth is, I found out right after my first regeneration, which was Sign #1, when you guys told me it was normal for me but not for other humans, since completely rewriting one’s DNA into someone else’s is impossible for a regular human to do. Sign #2: I grew in an extra heart, which is, again, something completely impossible for a human. For years, you told me to keep my powers secret from the rest of the world, and if I were human, this wouldn’t have been a problem; not to mention, not a single human has a secret like this. This was Sign #3. Sign #4: my IQ is obviously much higher than the average human of my age, maybe even higher than Albert Einstein’s at this point. And Sign #5: I’m adopted, which should’ve been the second obvious sign behind Regeneration. I could possibly go on, but there are at least five obvious signs that I’m not human.”

“ _Six_ actually,” Dad immediately corrected me.

I frowned, puzzled. “Six?”

He glanced to Mom and then back to me. “Your name isn’t really Sydney Elise,” he confessed. “That was just a name we gave you because your bio-parents didn’t want us using your real name in case you met with the wrong people.”

“That, and if we were able to have a real daughter, we would’ve named her Sydney Elise,” Mom added. “So that worked out for us, needless to say.”

“By ‘wrong people,’ you mean my bio-parents’ enemies that want me dead?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dad nodded. “Yes. If we used your real name, they would’ve most likely found you a lot sooner, and who knows where you’d be now.”

 _Probably being trained as an assassin_ , I thought, suddenly feeling disturbed, _or tortured, or killed._ I wondered if this was exactly what the school intruder, and possibly the Sontaran, wanted to do with the mysterious Nova as well. Suddenly thinking of her, I asked out loud, “So who’s Nova Susan Song? Is she my sister? Where does she fit into all of this?”

Mom glanced to Dad again and sighed, “That is what we were about to tell you—who she really is.”

“Okay, so who is she?” I asked a little impatiently. The growing anxiety was becoming too much to handle, but I also couldn’t help thinking in my head, _please don’t be me, please don’t be me, please don’t be me_ …

Mom sighed again. “She is not your sister…” she confessed. After a short pause, she said, “She is _you_. Nova Susan Song is your real name.”

I felt like both of my hearts had stopped in that moment. “She…she’s _me_?” I asked in shock, barely getting a word out. “Are you saying…the school intruder back in Second Grade…was after _me_ this whole time?”

She couldn’t be serious! She just _couldn’t_! I glanced to Dad, but he just nodded.

“Yes,” Mom nodded. “That was why we immediately called the school to make sure you were alright and to have you brought home. We were so worried that he’d caught you and taken you away from us forever.”

“But he didn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “He was stopped by my mother.” I then paused. “Or who I _think_ was my mother. She was even at the arcade after the Sontaran attacked us a few years ago. I assumed she got rid of him with my dad, who was the man in the bow tie she was with. I saw the footage online but didn’t meet them in person. They came in a blue police box, which had to be alien—excuse me, _Time Lord_ , which is also what _I_ am. I assume that was another thing you were gonna tell me?” There was no doubt that was the main secret they were going to spill, but I had known about it for a while now. However, I hoped they would know more about the history of the Time Lords, including where they were from.

“Yes,” Dad nodded to answer my question, but the rest of his answer wasn’t what I had hoped. “Although, I’m sorry to say we don’t know much about the Time Lords; only that that is what you are, as are your parents, mostly your dad. Your mom is half-and-half.”

“half-and-half?” I asked, puzzled. “You mean she’s _part_ -Time Lord?”

Dad nodded again and continued, “And part-human; although, mostly human now. She gave up all her Time Lord powers once upon a time to save your father’s life. Unfortunately, she didn’t tell us any details.”

I suddenly remembered the blue box and asked, “And…what about the blue box? Surely you’ve seen it?”

It was Mom’s turn to nod now. “Yes, we’ve seen it. It was there on the night we adopted you. It appeared out of nowhere with a great wheezing sound, and it disappeared in the same way after your mother handed you over to us. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looked bigger on the inside,” Dad said with a slight chuckle, “but that’s _ridiculous_.”

“River said that box was a spaceship as well as a _time-machine_ ,” Mom shrugged in agreement. “Nothing’s more ridiculous than _that_.”

These words hit me like a stab to both hearts simultaneously. “Oh, great,” I groaned, distressed. “I come from a family of _mad_ people. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?” How could they do this to me, especially after years of saying they loved me?

Mom abruptly shook her head. “No, sweetie, that’s not what we’re saying at all. We just never thought we’d be in a situation like this. Not that raising you was a bad thing. It was a very _good_ thing; it was the _best_ thing that’s ever happened to us. We always told you, you were special, and we truly meant it.”

“What your mother means is that eighteen years ago, we never imagined we’d be raising someone’s child that wasn’t human,” Dad explained; “and it wasn’t until you opened your beautiful emerald eyes and smiled up at us for the first time that we realized that we made the right decision to raise you, whether you were human or not. In that moment, I knew you were my daughter…that you had _become_ my daughter. We were never going to give you up, like your parents did. Of course, they did it for a good reason, but we weren’t going to be like them, no matter what happened to us. I would never let _anything_ keep us apart.”

I was speechless in that moment. My dad’s words were like music to my ears, but I couldn’t help but fear about the safety of my foster parents if my bio-parents’ enemies found them while on their search for me. If the enemies had found us, they would probably do anything to get to me and would more than likely kill my foster parents to do it. Just this thought sent a shiver down my spine that I feared I would never get rid of.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” my foster mother asked, noticing my disturbed silence.

“I want to be alone,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty and struggling to fight back tears. “This is…this is too much to process. I need to be alone for a few hours, maybe even the rest of the night.” Even though I said this, I figured it was going to take a lot longer to accept this new—though not _entirely_ new—information. In that moment, now that everything had been revealed/confirmed (I couldn’t imagine there not being a slash between the two words, because my foster parents had both revealed _and_ confirmed the terrible truth of my identity), my whole universe was turned completely upside down, and there was no way of fixing it right-side-up…not ever again. 

Seeming somewhat concerned, my foster mother nodded. “Of course, honey. We’ll leave you alone for as long as you need.” As she and my foster father prepared to leave my bedroom (although they seemed reluctant to do so), she suddenly paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.” She lifted up a skinny navy-blue box that I never realized she was carrying when they first entered my room. The box had a silver ribbon that was tied in a neat bow. “It’s from your bio-parents. They wanted us to give you this when you came of age.”

As a response, I could only nod. She then placed the box on my bedside and left the room without another word, closing the door behind her.

Immediately after my guardians left, I buried my face in my pillow and cried, both hearts now completely broken.


	11. Chapter 10: The Life and Death of Sydney Elise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nova’s story has finally wrapped up to the present, but now that she knows the truth, she doesn’t know what to do. Luckily she has her best friend to help her organize her thoughts and feelings, as well as a letter from her bio-father and an otherworldly device, called a sonic screwdriver, that she clearly needs more practice with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here onwards, the story will now be in Present Tense. Anything I may reference from Nova’s past will obviously be in Past Tense, so I hope the change between tenses doesn’t confuse anyone.
> 
> Also, note that the Doctor didn’t give Nova his sonic screwdriver, only an exact copy for her to temporarily use until she designs her own, which might happen toward the end of Part 1. Needless to say, Nova learns (by herself) to use it until she meets the Doctor. 
> 
> Anyway, on with the story.

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe what had just happened…what I was just _told_. I can’t believe my parents would do such a thing—to keep this secret from me for _so long_!

I guess that settles it now. The beans have finally been spilt. It’s all true.

I am not human.

Of course, I’ve known this for a while, pretty much my whole life. Now that everything has been confirmed, it seems too absurd to be believable.

I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t even know my own _identity_ anymore. I feel like my whole life has been a big, fat _lie_.

Only _one_ thing is for certain, one thing that stands above all other absurdities:

I am an unearthly child. A freak. A nobody. An _alien_. An alien whose name was _never_ the name that her human guardians gave her. An alien who always seems to stand out from a large crowd, simply because her IQ is _way_ too advanced for her age. An alien who obviously has superpowers _way_ beyond Planet Earth. An alien who doesn’t have a _clue_ where she truly comes from. An alien whose _true_ name will haunt her for the rest of her days:

Nova Susan Song.

As much as I like the sound of the whole name put together, I don’t want it to be mine. I don’t want to possess the name of someone whom the entire universe seems to want dead. If I was born human—if I was _normal_ —I wouldn’t have to worry about such things. I could have normal rights, normal friends, a normal family…a normal _life_.

But my life was _never_ normal, and it will never be normal again.

As I lay on my bed, tears staining my pillow, I try to think about my ( _Sydney’s_ ) entire childhood and every memorable event that happened that was normal, but I could only think of events in my life that were the exact opposite:

My first regeneration, along with growing in a second heart…

The school intruder that hunted for me back in Second Grade…

My foster parents revealing that I was not their true daughter, and that they had, in fact, adopted me…

The entire world, except for me, was transformed (temporarily) into the creepy blond guy on the worst Christmas ever…

Saving my best friend Hazel from being murdered by a psychotic armored dwarf (that was also hunting me) during what was once an innocent game of Laser Tag…

Revealing my secret to Hazel when I healed her arm with my regeneration energy not long after the Laser Tag incident…

Discovering the website on the Internet about the mysterious ‘Doctor’ and his many faces…

Having the reoccurring dream of the night of my adoption and the strange blue police box with its unearthly sounds and impossible interior…

Being “stalked” throughout my life by an unknown curly-haired woman, whose face looks almost exactly like my own…

And just now, when I was told the terrible truth of my identity.

When all these things were happening at the time that they happened, I never understood why they were happening to me, or vice versa for some, when the entire world _except_ for me was affected. Now that it has been confirmed that I am not human, it all makes sense. Certain events, such as the entire Human Race becoming the creepy blond guy that Christmas, happened to everyone else but me, because only those who were human were affected, and those who weren’t (like me) were spared. That would explain why I never became the blond guy when everyone else did, or I wasn’t possessed into standing at the edge of the highest building because I didn’t have A-Positive blood. Then again, several other humans didn’t have that blood-type either; but if, say, every human had that blood-type, I would’ve been the only one not affected. These types of events, being some of the biggest events in Earth history, proved that I was never human, and I now understand that perfectly.

Also, now that I know the truth, I feel like a large part of me has died. The part of me that defined me as ‘Sydney Elise’ has been destroyed and replaced with someone else…this complete stranger that is Nova Susan Song. It’s like I regenerated again, but this time my whole _identity_ has changed. It’s like Sydney Elise never existed, that she had been completely erased from history. However, I can still remember being her, but I no longer sense her within me. For a normal regeneration, I would imagine Time Lords would still be able to sense their previous selves within their new, fresh body, but this doesn’t seem to be the case for me. This could only mean one thing: Sydney Elise is gone, dead. Forever.

Because of this, I feel more alien than ever.

For the next several hours, I continue to sob uncontrollably in my pillow, long past sunset. I am so overwhelmed with emotion that it’s hard to breathe, both hearts feeling like they’re about to burst out of my chest. I suppose Mother Nature feels the same way as me (albeit about something completely different), as it begins to heavily rain outside, large droplets slamming against the window noisily. A funny coincidence that the worst possible weather would fall on the worst day ever, but it is nowhere _close_ to humorous.

 _Why?_ I say in my head in anger to no one, but also _everyone_ , particularly my bio-parents. _Why did you make me become this? Why did you turn me into an **alien** , someone who’s not human? What could you possibly hope to gain from doing this to me? Did you think turning me into this would make me hate you? If so, it worked; you got what you wanted. I **do** hate you. Because of you, I am **nothing**_.

This was all my parents’ fault, particularly my father’s. Shortly after I was born, he gave me up to be raised as someone— _something_ —I wasn’t. He _abandoned_ me, practically throwing me out on the streets and leaving me with nothing to tell me what and who I am. Because of him—that ‘Doctor’—I am living this sick, bizarre, _alien_ life, and I hate it. I hate _him_. Doctors are supposed to heal and make things better, but he has done the complete _opposite_ with my life. I will _never_ forgive him for this. I feel almost embarrassed to be the daughter of someone as cruel and careless as he.

I glance over at the small box that my foster parents left for me that was originally from my bio-parents, and I greatly consider taking it, throwing it outside, and destroying it forever, as I want absolutely nothing to do with them, but my curiosity ultimately ends up getting the better of me. Wiping my eyes dry, I grab the box and untie the ribbon that keeps it sealed. I lift the lid to reveal what looks like a gold-colored flashlight of sorts, with large prongs surrounding a green crystal at its tip. Underneath that is a silver necklace with its front face inlaid with unusual circular symbols, like otherworldly hieroglyphics. There is also a small handwritten note along with the two objects. I take the note, unfold it, and read quietly:

_My dear Nova,_

_If you are reading this, then you have finally come of age and have most likely been told the truth about what and who you really are (or you have likely found everything out for yourself, and if so, well done, you). I would imagine you are confused and a bit scared as well. And that’s okay. Or, at least, I assume that’s okay. It’s been a long time since I thought of myself as “different”—twelve-hundred years to be exact, but that’s a story for another time. This story is about you, my special daughter, whose heart(s) will forever be seared onto mine._

_I say “heart(s)” because I’m not sure if, by now, you have gone through something called Regeneration. It is something that we Time Lords (yes, that is what you are as well) go through when it comes time for us to “pass on,” in other words, change our physical bodies to look completely different from the previous one(s). Notice I used a “(s)” again; that will be important later. Not to worry, Nova. Regeneration is a difficult time for all of us (and if you think about it, humans can do this as well, with the way their bodies change as they grow older, but not really), and it can also be agonizingly painful, but on the plus side, it’s not something you have to do on a daily basis. You may go through it at least once every few centuries or so. Trust me, I’ve had to go through the process at least ten times. Anyway, it is during your first regeneration that your new body will most likely contain a second heart, which is perfectly normal for us, I assure you. You will also keep that second heart in future regenerations (unfortunately, you can't retro-regenerate back into a past incarnation; trust me, I already tried), depending on how many you have, which you should have at least twelve of, so don’t go wasting regenerations all willy-nilly. In fact, don’t regenerate at all; better to keep them all so they last. I tried doing that during my last life, but I couldn’t hold it back for long. Oh well. Better luck next time, I suppose._

_Now, on to a new topic, which is probably the most important one of the lot and is also the main reason why I am writing this letter. You’ve probably been told long before you found out you were not as “normal” as you thought you were that your mother and I had to give you up for adoption to keep you safe, and I want to tell you that we did it for a good reason. Our enemies, the Silence, have been plotting to kidnap you and train you to kill me (your father), just as they have done with your mother long ago. Although she wasn’t your mother back then. Not yet. At the time, she nearly succeeded in killing me with a poison from the Judas Tree (which is very lethal to Time Lords and is something that disables regeneration, so I would stay well away from it if I were you), but she broke free from her conditioning by the Silence and saved my life by sacrificing something very precious—her Time Lord abilities. Your mother, the love of my lives, River Song, is the bravest woman I have ever known (of course, long after she tried to kill me, and many times before that; it’s complicated), and I hope you, my Nova, will grow to be just as brave and beautiful as she._

_As a “coming of age” gift (or rather, two gifts, as you have a gift from each of us; although both are really from me), we are bestowing you with a locket from my home-world of Gallifrey. This was a gift I was given from my guardians when I came of age (again, a story for another time), but now I am giving it to you to keep with you always as a reminder of where you truly come from and the life you will lead. As another gift, I am giving you an exact copy of my sonic screwdriver, which is a handy tool to use in any situation (of course, not just for screwing in screws), whether you are stuck in a tight place and need to get out, or you’re holding a terrifying monster at bay. The key to using it is to point and think, and it’ll do whatever you want it to. Remember: POINT AND THINK, and always remember to keep it with you at all times, because it can save your life. I can’t tell you how many times it has saved mine, because I have honestly lost count. That’s what happens when you get to be over a thousand years old. You tend to lose track of everything, including your own birthday. You will eventually get there one day, most likely when I’m gone, as I don’t have much time left to live. Spoilers. _

_Now, you are most likely wondering if you’ll ever meet your true parents in person. Unfortunately, it is uncertain whether we’ll meet again. It could be we might never meet again, or we might see each other again quite soon. Only time will tell._

_Whatever happens, Nova, however long and however far we are in time and space from you, know that your mother and I love you more than you will ever know, and there is nothing in the entire universe, not even a Dalek, that will stop us from loving you. You are seared onto both of our hearts always._

_Have a good and long life, my sweet, bright Nova._

_The Doctor_

After I finish reading the note, I can’t help but feel even angrier. My father—who I now know is the mysterious ‘Doctor’—abandoned me, and now he sent me this note as, what, an _apology_? _Yeah right_ , I scoff in my head. _He doesn’t deserve to give an apology after what he did_. Then again, he said in his letter that he gave me up “for a good reason” by protecting me from some enemy of theirs called the ‘Silence,’ whoever they are. Of course, when there is danger targeting one’s family, his/her main goal is to protect them, no matter what, so the wisest thing to do is send whoever is most vulnerable as far away from the danger as possible so they don’t get hurt, and this was exactly what my bio-parents did to me.

A sense of appreciation suddenly washes over me. My bio-parents sent me these things as a way to show me that they still care for me, even after they gave me up. The Doctor even admitted that he and my mother won’t stop loving me, which is, ironically, something my foster parents always told me. Maybe I don’t have to hate him much for that, but a part of me still hates him for giving me up without an explanation. Then again, according to his letter, he did provide an explanation (as brief as it was), but he made me wait eighteen years to discover it.

However, despite everything, I also feel slight suspicion toward my bio-father. I hardly know anything about this guy, and yet he wants me to believe that he can be trusted, as well as loved, by everyone he touches, including myself. I’m not really sure what to think about him, or really _anything_ about my true origins, but I know that just balling all my thoughts and feelings within myself isn’t going to get me anywhere. The only way to better organize my thoughts and get my feelings under control (as well as my hearts, because they feel as if they’re running a marathon) is to talk to someone, and who better than ‘The Girl Who Always Knows What to Say to Make Humans and Non-Humans Happy.’ She is now a part of my secret, after all; plus, she has a right to know my true identity, since we’ve been best friends since the First Grade.

Setting the box from my bio-parents aside, I immediately call Hazel on my phone. After she answers, I ask her if she’s busy, to which she says ‘no’ and that she’s actually home alone, with her parents out at a concert in Salina and her brother out with friends for the night. She then comments on how upset I sound, to which I respond by briefly explaining how I can’t be at home right now because something happened between me and my foster parents, and there is something important that I need to talk to her about, which involves my secret. I then ask if it’s cool if I crash for the night at her house, and Hazel says ‘yes.’ I tell her I would have to wait for my foster parents to go to bed, as I don’t want them to know where I’m going. I convince her that I will explain everything to her later, and I hang up shortly after.

Three hours later, just before midnight, my guardians finally go to bed, and I quietly sneak out of the house with my overnight bag and into the stormy night. Before I left, something in my gut told me to put the locket with the strange circular symbols over my neck, which I did. I even bring my unusual flashlight-looking thing with me, as I figure Hazel might help me figure out how it works. Despite the bad weather, I don’t take one of my guardians’ cars, as I don’t want to draw any suspicion to myself, as well as to not let them follow me. Not that it really matters, as even if they do discover that I am gone, the first place they’ll go will be Hazel’s house; but I’m not planning to be gone for long (just _one_ night), although a small part of me wishes I’ll be gone much longer.

“Wow! You walked all the way here _in the rain_?” Hazel says, shocked, after she lets me into her house.

“I couldn’t drive here, knowing my parents would just follow me,” I explain as I take off my rain jacket and hang it on the coat rack by the door. “Of course, it wouldn’t matter, because even if they didn’t know where I went, this would be the place they’d look first.”

“You’re not _running away_ , are you?” Hazel asks suspiciously as we walk into her living room and collapse on the couch. “From what you just said, it sounds like you’re running away.”

“Yes…” I admit, but then think better. “No…” I sigh, not knowing how to explain the thoughts and feelings running around each other in my head like a vortex spinning out of control. “It’s complicated. The truth is, I want to run away from _everything_. This secret…this _life_.”

“Why?” Hazel asks, concerned. “Syd, please talk to me.”

“That’s not my name anymore,” I can’t help mumbling under my breath in anger. 

“What?” Hazel frowns, puzzled.

“Sydney Elise is no longer my name,” I confess. “In fact, it’s _never_ been my name. Sydney Elise, she’s…” I pause, then admit regretfully, “She’s _dead_. In fact, she never existed. Turns out that name was just a cover-up in place of my true name all along.”

“So what _is_ your true name then?” she asks curiously.

I glance at her. “I think you know. I’ve told you for years that I thought she was my sister, but she was never that… She was always _me_.”

“Are you talking about Nova?” Hazel says in shock. “ _That’s_ your real name?”

I nod with a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Nova Susan Song, to be exact. Although, I don’t know where the names come from. ‘Susan’ might be someone I’m named after, but ‘Nova,’ I’m not sure. I read that a nova is the birth of a new star, or sometimes a star’s explosion, which they call a ‘supernova,’ but I don’t know which one I’m named after. And ‘Song,’ of course, is my birth mother’s last name. I guess, now that that’s cleared up, you’ll have to start calling me ‘Nova’ now.”

Hazel then shrugs seemingly carelessly. “That’s fine.”

“Really?” I frown, puzzled. _How can she be so calm after a big revelation like this?_ I wondered. _Surely, she’d get the sense that she lost a friend today—her old friend Sydney Elise, who’s now been replaced with a total stranger still occupying her friend’s body_.

“Yeah!” Hazel admits. “To be honest, I think the name ‘Nova’ fits you much better than ‘Sydney.’ So what if you no longer go by ‘Sydney Elise?’ Just because you’ve changed names doesn’t mean your whole identity has changed.”

Wow! I can’t believe the words that have left Hazel’s mouth. Obviously she’s still willing to be my friend, regardless of what’s happened earlier today, but I still can’t help but feel a great loss clinging tightly to me, refusing to let go.

“That’s just it,” I confess. “I feel like it _has_ changed, but even more than a typical regeneration would. With regeneration, only my physical appearance and parts of my personality change; but this time I feel like _everything_ has changed, including my name and identity. Now that I know my true name, and now that everything about my non-humanness has been confirmed, it’s like a part of me—the part of me that defined me as ‘Sydney Elise,’ the part of me that was _human_ —has died; it’s like she no longer exists within me. It’s like in _Ghostbusters_ , ‘There is no Dana, only Zuul,’ except in my case it’s ‘There is no Sydney, only Nova;’ but I don’t even know who ‘Nova’ is, or who she’s supposed to be. Apparently, Nova was never supposed to be human, but that’s how I was raised; that was how _Sydney_ was raised. Now that I am no longer Sydney, I don’t know who I am anymore, or even _what_ I am.” I am suddenly overwhelmed with emotion again, and I sob uncontrollably, burying my face in my hands. “I’m scared, Haze. I’m really, really scared.”

Hazel immediately wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Syd— _Nova_ ,” she says, catching herself saying the wrong name. In fact, _everything_ about my life has never felt more wrong than this.

“What does this mean for my future?” I wonder aloud. “What am I supposed to do, now that everything’s been confirmed?” Do I leave home and never return? Do I turn myself in to Area 51, or whoever deals with illegal aliens, and have them decide what to do with me? If I didn’t know better, I’d suggest going back home and pretending like this is all just a dream, but there is absolutely no point, knowing this is all real. 

“I don’t know,” Hazel says regretfully. “I guess…the only thing you can do is continue keeping this secret.”

I look up at her incredulously. “Why? I can’t just keep the secret forever; everyone’s gonna find out about it at some point. Then what, I get captured and experimented on for the rest of my life? Or worse, hunted and _killed_? Would my bio-parents even come to rescue me…or will they leave me to suffer ‘til I’m out of regenerations? If Earth is no longer our home, is there even another world to go back to? What if our home-world has been destroyed, and Earth is the only place we have left, but we can no longer live here, where else would we go?” I pause, fearing the worst. “Where else would _I_ go?” I can’t imagine being forcefully kicked out of a place I call home, just because I’m different…because I’m not human.

Hazel smiles. “No place where _I_ won’t be with you.”

I frown. “Really?” Would she really come with me, even with the risk of getting caught being in cahoots with an _alien_?

She shrugs. “Yeah! Remember when I said, ‘if you go down, I go down with you?’ I still haven’t changed my mind about that, and honestly, I don’t think I ever will.”

“But you said that to _Sydney_ , not Nova,” I say with a raised eyebrow.

“True,” Hazel agrees, “but I said that to Nova as well. You may have gone by a different name your whole life, but one thing that’s never changed is that you’re still my _friend_. Friends always stick together, for better or worse.”

I smile too, chuckling, “Even ‘til death do us part?” I seriously doubt she’d agree to _that_.

“Uh…sure,” she says hesitantly. “Why not?”

“Good!” I say excitedly. “How does London sound?”

Hazel scoffs. “You’re serious? That’s, like, the most invaded city on Earth. Why would we possibly want to live there?”

“Well…maybe not to _live_ there, per se,” I explain; although, the idea doesn’t sound so bad. “More like go to school there. I’ve applied to pretty much every university there and have gotten accepted into…well, _all_ of them. The only thing I have to do is pick one and enroll in it. Imagine us being _roommates_ …going to school with _Brits_. I’ll bet every boy will be fawning over us, just for being American girls. Won’t that be so cool, having a _British_ boyfriend?” Of course, getting a British boyfriend isn’t ideal for _me_ , given my non-humanness, but it could be ideal for Hazel. She always seems to be into all things foreign, but then again, so am _I_ , but not in _that_ case. 

Hazel shrugs uncertainly. “Well…I _do_ find the British accent to be kinda sexy, especially from the men.”

“So you’ll come with me then?” I ask hopefully.

“Sure,” she says suspiciously, “but I’m getting the sense you don’t want to go to London just for school. You want to go mainly because you think you’ll find your _parents_ there, don’t you?”

“No, of course not!” I lie, but then I notice Hazel’s doubtful look, and I think better. “Okay, fine, shoot me. _Yes_ , I mainly want to go to London to find my bio-parents. But you need to understand how important this is to me. They gave me up to protect me from… _something_ , and I need to know what that ‘something’ is; more than that, I need to find out who and what _I_ am, and my bio-parents have those answers. In fact, they’re the _only_ ones with those answers.” For some reason, I have the sense that my foster parents weren’t told the _entire_ truth when my bio-parents gave me up to them that night.

“Okay, I get it,” Hazel nods, then sighs. “I just…I don’t want to just go to London blindly, not knowing what to expect there and run into whatever aliens will invade the place next.”

“We won’t,” I assure her confidently. “I’ll protect you with my martial arts skills. You obviously haven’t seen them in action yet. Granted, they can get very violent, so I’m told.” I immediately think back on the memory of one of my final tests when I was told that I wasn’t going to pass unless I put at least one person in hospital, which greatly appalled me. I couldn’t believe that my instructors were telling me to hurt someone enough to put them in hospital; of course, the people I was fighting against were fighting as if they were trying to kill me, and I realized I had to fight back in the same way. Luckily, after that test, I hadn’t had to fight like that again, and today, I hope to never fight like that in the future either. “But I’ll try to keep it PG,” I add with a ‘ _what could go wrong_ ’ smile.

But Hazel was still seeming hesitant about the idea of moving overseas. “Okay. That’s kinda another thing. What if we’re separated when something bad happens? How will you protect me then?”

 _Geez_ , I sigh, rolling my eyes, _why is she acting like a total buzzkill?_ “Come on, Haze,” I say out loud. “Where’s your sense of adventure? It’ll be fun; a whole new country to explore. It’s mostly filled with English-speakers anyway, just with a different accent. What’s the big deal?”

Hazel sighs in seeming defeat. “Alright, maybe it’ll be interesting to go to school there, just as long as we don’t run into crazy aliens along the way.”

“Unless they’re Time Lord,” I say to add to her declaration, and also to make clear that my species isn’t ‘crazy’ as in ‘dangerous,’ like the other aliens that have invaded our planet over the last eighteen years. 

“Right,” Hazel nods in agreement. Then she asks curiously, “What if you _do_ actually find your bio-parents, what will you do?”

I suddenly pause, a feeling of uncertainty washing over me. “I…don’t know. I mainly want to find them to get the information I want from them, but if after I find them, and they insist on taking me back to whatever and wherever our home-world is…” I sigh. “I’m not sure if I want to go back…if the world still exists. Maybe, like in the Sci-Fi movies, my bio-parents left their home-world because it was either being taken over or destroyed, and they came to Earth to hide out or claim the planet as their new home. But if their home-world still exists, and we as a family decide to return to it…I’m not sure if I want to go. I mean, Earth has been my home for…well, _ever_ , and I don’t want to leave this place. I don’t want to leave _you_.” I can’t imagine never being able to return to Earth, never being able to see my best friend again. I wonder if this is something my father has dealt with over the centuries— _twelve_ , to be exact, which is unbelievable. I wonder if _I’ll_ have to deal with it when I’m older.

Hazel raises an eyebrow. “If that ends up being the case, are you sure you _want_ to find them?” It’s like she senses that I have changed my mind about finding them, which I kinda have, but at the same time I _haven’t_ really. 

“I don’t know,” I shrug, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what I want anymore. I guess…instead of finding them, I’ll just wait for them to find _me_. Although, I’m pretty sure my bio-mom knows where I am; she’s probably been following me for years.” Of _course_ she has, hence why I’ve been seeing her throughout my life.

“So, if you see the curly-haired woman again, you’ll just…run away?” Hazel asks skeptically.

“No,” I say a little hesitantly, not knowing whether I’m lying or not. “More like I’ll just…run in the opposite direction and hope she doesn’t follow me.”

“Uh…isn’t that the same thing as running away?” She says, clearly not buying my half-lie.

I sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I guess it is. Fine, _yes_. If I see any curly-haired women, or dudes in tweed jackets and bow ties, or even blue police boxes, I’ll run away.” Suddenly thinking about the police box, I say, “Although, I’m still curious about that one blue box we saw that day at the arcade, as well as the one I’d seen in my dreams, which I’m pretty sure is the _same_ box. I’m ninety-percent positive that box was bigger on the inside, which should be impossible, but maybe for that particular box, it’s normal; which, I guess, makes sense, because it has to be that size in order to hold all those mysteries inside, right?”

“Right, I guess,” Hazel says uncertainly, not quite understanding what I am saying, since she obviously hasn’t been having the same dream as me. “What’s that necklace you’re wearing? I meant to ask about it earlier,” she says, changing the subject, pointing to my locket that I had totally forgotten I was wearing around my neck.

Suddenly remembering, I say, fiddling with it in my hand, “Oh, it’s from my bio-parents; they gave it to me as a ‘coming of age’ gift. Not in person, obviously; my foster parents actually held onto it. It’s actually a locket, but there’re no pictures in it. See?” I unclick the locket to show the interior is empty. At the time I unclicked it before I left my house, I expected to see the smiling faces of my bio-parents inside, but there was nothing. I guess they wanted me to put my own pictures in it on my own; of course, that’s not going to happen for a while, since I haven’t met them yet.

“It’s got interesting circular symbols on it,” Hazel points out with amazement. “What are those, hieroglyphics of some kind?”

“I think so,” I shrug, tracing the symbols absentmindedly with my fingers. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. I’ve certainly never seen anything like them anywhere on Earth. It came with a letter written from my bio-dad. He said the locket was given to him by his guardians when he came of age as well, when he was still living on his home-world called Gallifrey. I’m assuming the symbols mean something in their language.”

“That language being…what, _Gallifreyan_?” Hazel guesses with a raised eyebrow.

I shrug. “I guess, yeah. These symbols could translate as something like ‘love,’ ‘peace,’ ‘hope,’ or something else.” I then reach in my bag and pull out the strange gold flashlight-looking object. “He also gave me this.” I hand it to her, and she examines it in her hand.

“What is it?” she asks suspiciously. “Some kind of flashlight?”

“I don’t know,” I say as Hazel gives the object back to me. “In the letter, my bio-dad called it a ‘sonic screwdriver;’ he’s got one of the same exact design. He said it can be used in any situation, not just for screwing in screws.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Hazel asks, puzzled. “It can do _more_ than just screw in screws?”

I shrug again. “I guess so. This could be something alien, made from Time Lord technology. I bet it can do a lot of really cool things. Here, let’s test it on something. What’s something that’s got screws in it?”

Hazel suggests testing it out on a light switch, as it has screws that can be easily replaced and not screw anything up (pun intended). Remembering my bio-father’s instruction to “point and think,” I point the screwdriver’s end with the green crystal to one of the screws holding the light switch plate to the wall and press the button, making it emit a loud buzzing sound and its crystal glow brightly. Ignoring the ear-piercing screeching, I give the command in my head: _loosen_. Sure enough, the screw literally unscrews on its own and falls to the floor with a small _ping_.

“Whoa!” Hazel exclaims as I pick up the fallen screw and replace it back on the light switch plate, this time giving the command to the otherworldly screwdriver: _tighten_. The screw then twists itself back into the wall with no harm done. Hazel exclaims again, “That’s so cool! It can actually screw in and unscrew screws! What else can it do?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug. "That noise is incredibly loud though." I then glance up at the light overhead. Since we are messing with the lights, we might as well mess with them some more. “Let’s see if it can turn off and on lights without using a switch.” I then point the screwdriver at the light bulb and think the command: _turn off_. Instead of simply dimming itself, the bulb suddenly explodes in a shower of sparks and shards. “ _Fudgeknuckle_!” I cry in shock as I shield myself from the broken shards that fly at us.

“Dude!” Hazel cries with equal shock. “You exploded the freaking light bulb!”

“Sorry!” I immediately apologize as I run into her kitchen to find the dustpan and broom. “I promise, I thought ‘turn off’ and not ‘explode!’ Clearly I need more practice with this thing!” I groan.

Hazel chuckled in an obvious manner. “Yeah, no kidding!” She volunteers to sweep the broken shards while I search for a new bulb to replace the one that exploded.

As Hazel cleans up the mess, and while I climb up the ladder to replace the light bulb, I ask jokingly, “Hey, Haze, how many Time Lords does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

She pauses her sweeping and looks up at me strangely, asking with a frown, “What kind of a question is that?”

I shake my head a little disappointedly. “Nothing. I just thought it sounded funny. Never mind.”

Changing the subject while she resumes sweeping, Hazel asks curiously, “So what else did you get from your bio-parents? Or was that it?”

I shake my head and say, “No, I think that was it. Although, in the letter, my dad did explain, at least a _bit_ , about why they gave me up.”

Dumping the broken shards into the trash, Hazel asks, “Okay, what’s their story?”

After I finish replacing the light bulb and climb down the ladder, I say, “I didn’t quite fully understand it, but he said they had given me up to protect me from an enemy called the Silence. I’m not exactly sure what they are, but apparently, they wanted to kidnap me to train me to kill my father, which sounds completely _crazy_. A long time ago, before my parents fell in love and married, my mother was trained to kill him, and she succeeded at one point. She killed him with some poison that was very lethal to Time Lords that could stop one from regenerating, but she ultimately saved him by giving up all her Time Lord abilities, including regeneration.”

“Wow!” Hazel says with a raised eyebrow. “That’s some _twisted_ relationship. So your father married his own assassin?”

“Apparently,” I shrug. “I can’t really believe it either. I mean, who knows whether my mother had totally gotten rid of the Silence’s influence over her. If not, maybe she’ll start coming after _me_ next—her own _daughter_! How insane is that? Of course, that was what the Silence wanted—and possibly _still_ want—to do to _me_.” I thought this sounded ludicrous as a thought, but now it sounds even more so when said out loud. How could a parent want to kill her own _child_?

“You’re no assassin!” Hazel says incredulously.

I shake my head with equal disbelief. “No, and I never want to be. Apparently, I come from a family of them; or rather, just _one_ assassin, that being my _mother_. I don’t want to be _anything_ like her…what she _was_.”

Just the very thought makes me suddenly fear for my foster family’s life, as well as Hazel’s. If the so-called ‘Silence’ are truly coming after me, I don’t want them to go after my friends and family either. If it’s true that now that I have come of age, that I’ll start attracting more danger to myself even when I’m _not_ using my powers, then maybe it’s time to go solo.

Maybe it’s time to leave my past life— _Sydney’s_ life—behind forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just out of curiosity, for those who have not only followed Doctor Who but also this story, what are your thoughts on the character Madame Kovarian? Do you ever wonder what happened to her after Series 6, especially after the 5:02 timeline was corrected? Before Series 7 even came out, I always thought Kovarian would come back somehow as the main villain, and I was a bit disappointed that they didn't bring her back. I personally thought she was a great villain, pretty up there with The Master and the Daleks. Please share your thoughts and theories about her in the comments, because I am very curious about them. 
> 
> My personal headcanon with Kovarian is that she had somehow survived 5:02 (when the Doctor and River had married and corrected the timeline) and had continued with her usual plots to kill the Doctor. Sometime between series 6 and 7, the Doctor faced off with Kovarian again (possibly with River), and Kovarian had tried using one of her new tactics to kill him, but somehow her tactic ended up backfiring, and she ended up being killed instead of the Doctor. It is unknown whether the Doctor was responsible for Kovarian's death, but he was at least a witness to her death. Obviously, Kovarian was never mentioned (at least in the Present Tense) in series 7, so my guess was that she had been killed sometime between the two seasons. 
> 
> Since I was fascinated with Kovarian's story, I thought to include my headcanon of her in this story and have her be the main villain, because I felt like her character didn't have a whole lot of screen-time on the actual show, and I didn't really agree with how Steven Moffat suddenly ended her character.


	12. Chapter 11: Travels with Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nova has sadly made up her mind to leave everything she’s ever known behind for good. However, shortly after arriving in London, she receives an unexpected surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the travel scene, I imagined the song “Find Me” by Birdy (from The Darkest Minds) playing in the background, because I felt like the lyrics fit perfectly with Nova’s current situation about finding her bio-parents; or rather Nova waiting for her bio-parents to find her. Listen to the song to understand why. 
> 
> Also, I read comments that those who try to get into London by Uber or taxi have had a poor experience and that it’s much faster to take the train. I’m sure those that agree with this may be right, but I personally have never had that experience because my family and I always took the train into the city from our home town at the time we lived there, which was for three years. For the sake of the story, taking the taxi was no problem for Nova. As she thought in this chapter, “it’s about the journey and not the destination.”
> 
> Anyway, on with the story.

For two whole months, I don’t talk much to my foster parents; if at all, it’s only small-talk. I mean, after spending my entire life lying to me about my true identity, you can understand why they are being given the silent treatment; of course, this is something that can’t be easily forgiven. So, that’s how I’ve been spending my summer vacation.

Of course, whenever I do feel the need to talk, I just call Hazel and spend the day at her house (or she’d come to mine, and we’d avoid my foster parents as much as possible). Or, if she’s busy, I just spend the day talking with myself; although, oftentimes, even when talking to oneself can be extremely helpful, it gives me an earache after a while, and I get bored of hearing nothing but my own voice responding to everything I say. I’m sure whenever my foster parents hear me talking to myself through the walls, they think I’ve gone mad, and they may be right; but if I had the nerve to actually talk to them, I would say to them, ‘ _Well, who else would **you** talk to if the people you don’t want to talk to are the only ones in the house?_’ If they knew what I was going through (which they _should_ ; I mean, they _had_ ruined my life, after all), they’d understand my point. That’s what sucks about being an only child; you don’t really have anyone else to talk to about your problems. If only I had a sibling—a _Time Lord_ sibling—my life wouldn’t be so complicated.

Of course, trying to figure out how the stupid “sonic screwdriver” works isn’t really easing my frustration either, especially when it looks absolutely _nothing_ like a screwdriver, nor did it come in the box with a manual with fully detailed instructions (“POINT AND THINK” isn’t exactly anything specific. _Point at **what**? Think **what**?_). Besides, how is a _screwdriver_ going to help me anyway? I can’t just “unscrew” my complicated life and then “screw” it back together in a less complicated way; unfortunately, that’s not how life works, and that’s the most frustrating thing of all. I then realize that this is the sort of thing that teenagers go through all the time, so maybe I’m not a _total_ alien, after all; maybe Time Lords felt this same thing when they came of age too.

In any case, this doesn’t change my mind about leaving my human life behind. As much as I don’t want to leave my family, no matter how angry I am at them, my leaving them is what is best for them, if my theory that I’ll be attracting more danger to myself, now that I am this age, is true. I don’t want any harm to come to them, because if I stay, that’s what’s going to happen, and it’ll be my fault.

During these two months, I plan my leave in secret. I don’t tell my foster parents, not even Hazel. In fact, I try to spend as much time with my best friend as ‘humanly’ possible, knowing this is going to be the last time I’ll ever see her again. During one of her (unbeknownst to her) “final” sleepovers at my house, I lie to her, saying I’ve actually decided to stay in town for Community College instead of going straight overseas to London to study abroad. Knowing she’d just follow me wherever I go—especially when she promised once upon a time that if I go down, she goes down with me—this is the only way to make her believe I am staying.

Surprisingly, the trick seems to work; she seems to take the bait immediately, without checking if it is safe first. Once that happens, I instantly feel guilty about lying to her, but I remind myself that this is what is best for her as well. I am saving her life by lying to her; and if, in the future, she ever finds out that a certain danger has come after me and _only_ me, she’ll thank me for leaving her behind, since she, nor my foster parents, will no longer be targeted. 

Come July, I’ve already decided on a university to attend, including a major and classes. My foster dad always said I seemed to have a real knack for figuring out how things work, especially in the IT world, so I choose Computer Science as a major, which involves learning different computer languages to code, and make websites, and stuff. Of course, I don’t reveal the fact that I am actually studying abroad in London at University College London (or UCL for short), which is located slap-bang in the middle of the city; so, needless to say, when I have free time from studying, I can go pretty much anywhere in any direction and run into a major tourist spot, such as Buckingham Palace, Parliament, or the Tower of London. I can honestly say that I am stoked about this experience, as I have always wanted to go to London since I was a kid.

Come to think of it, I’d have to have money to get there, as well as pay for tuition and stuff. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s where my mom’s _purse_ comes in. Technically, it won’t be stealing, since all three of us share the account, but by the time I’ve transferred the money into my personal account (which will only be a few thousand dollars which will be later converted into the European currency), I’m going to delete myself from their account and go on my own. That way, they can’t track how much money I’m spending and where I am spending it, knowing they’d come and find me once they find out.

But they _can’t_ find me, knowing they’d get themselves killed by doing so, which also defeats the purpose of me leaving in the first place. I am leaving them to keep them safe from me, and there’s no guarantee that they’ll be safe if they find me, same for Hazel.

Come mid-July, I find out that my foster parents are going to a concert in Salina, Kansas, which is a three-hour drive west of where we live, and, of course, that’s the day I plan to move out. Before the specific day, I book my flight overseas ( _two_ flights, to be exact, since there’s no direct flight from here to Heathrow), using the money I “stole” from Mom. On the actual day, I print out my plane tickets and hide them in my dresser until my foster parents leave for their own trip.

However, before they leave, I overhear them talking downstairs, and they sound as if they’re having second thoughts, which sets my nerves on edge. I seriously hope they’re not, because it would be very difficult to lie about why I am bringing a fully packed suitcase to Hazel’s for a “one-night sleepover.” To be honest, I’m surprised they’re thinking of going out at all, since they’ve never left me home alone before, for fear of my powers attracting danger to the house ( _clearly they have the same theory as me_ , I think, _which is another reason why I’m leaving_ ), which is why they’ve been so overprotective of me all these years, even when I’ve taken years of Martial Arts classes. Still, this doesn’t stop me from opening my bedroom door and listening in to their conversation.

“Are you sure we should go?” Mom asks Dad nervously. “I just…I don’t want to leave her alone in the house even for this long. What if she’s asleep, but she’s kidnapped before she wakes up? Or worse…”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Dad assures her. “We put her in martial arts classes for this very reason. It’s only for _one_ night. Besides, she’s a big girl now; she can look out for herself.” He then exclaims, “Hey, there she is, our little college supernova!” He’s been calling me by that nickname ever since they spilled the beans on me about my true identity, and I honestly don’t think it sticks to me all that well, even though my regeneration energy can be very ‘explosive’ like a supernova, which I guess is where the nickname comes from, and because I may actually be named after a supernova.

When he said that, I honestly didn’t realize before then that I had come downstairs until it was too late. I then realize that now that I am down here, I must have an excuse for coming down in the first place, so I say the very first thing that comes to mind. “Hey. I…uh…actually just came down to…see you guys off.” It’s not the greatest excuse, but luckily they seem to buy it.

“See us off?” Mom says as if it’s a joke. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to do that.” She then pulls me in for a hug, which I awkwardly accept, as she continues, “We’re not going to be gone _that_ long. It’s just for one night, and then we’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t act like you’re never going to see us again.”

That last statement sends a wave of guilt rushing up my spine. _If you only knew_ , I think in my head before saying out loud, “No, of course not.” Even to my own ears, it sounds dead like a lie. I then release the hug and say as calmly as I can muster, “Go. Have fun.” Clearly they aren’t aware that this is goodbye forever, but I make this sound like a casual goodbye, regardless, like I will actually see them again the next day.

“Are you sure?” Mom asks a little hesitantly, like she senses that this _isn’t_ in fact a normal ‘ _see you later_ ’ kind of goodbye. “You’ll be home alone for the entire night. You won’t have any protection if someone tries to come after you.”

Hoping to steer her away from that suspicion, I say, “Mom, I’ll be fine. You forget, I was top of my class in both high school _and_ Martial Arts. Like Dad said, I can look out for myself now. I’ve grown up; I don’t need protecting anymore.”

“We know,” Dad says as he pulls me into a hug this time. “You’ll still be our baby girl, no matter what. We love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I admit honestly. “You both are seared onto my hearts always.” I honestly don’t know what got me to say that last bit, but I remember my bio-father saying those exact words in his letter to me, so I guess I unconsciously decided to say those same words to my foster parents. I am going to leave them, after all—possibly for _good_ —and there’s a high chance that I will not get a second chance to say it. Just this thought makes my eyes water with tears, but I fight them back as much as I can; for if they see me cry, they’ll immediately know something is up.

“ _Wow_!” Dad exclaims, impressed with my choice of words. “Strong words there. I guess it makes sense. ‘Two hearts’ means ‘double the love,’ right?”

Knowing it makes perfect sense to me, I just nod and chuckle, “Right.”

Dad suddenly releases me from our hug and looks me dead in the eye. “Hey,” he says in a calm but stern voice, “your mother and I are sorry we lied to you about your identity, but you need to understand we—”

“No, I understand,” I say, shaking my head. “You did it for my own good; you did it to protect me. If you hadn’t used a different name for me, I probably wouldn’t be here today, or I wouldn’t have lived for as long as I have. It’s okay, I forgive you.” I then smile warmly. “Besides, that’s what true parents do, right? They do whatever it takes to keep their children safe, whether they’re adopted or not.” This last statement instantly makes me think of my bio-parents, knowing that they kept me safe from the Silence by giving me up when I was first born. Now, I am going to do the same thing to my foster parents—leave them as a way of keeping _them_ safe. 

“Right,” Dad says, hugging me again. “You’ve always had a bright spirit, Nova. We are so proud of you. I know you’ve been angry with us over the last few months, which is why you haven’t spoken to us in a long time, but let us make it up to you. After tonight, we’ll start spending much more time with you—take you to your favorite restaurants, watch your favorite movies, and maybe even find a weekend to go on a trip together as a family, and you pick the location. What do you say?”

His words make me feel guiltier than ever, and I can’t help but think, _Thanks, Dad, now you’re breaking my hearts_ , knowing these things are just wishes—wishes that will never be fulfilled.

And what’s worse is that they don’t know it, and it breaks my hearts even more.

The only thing I know how to say, even though it isn’t the full truth, is, “That sounds wonderful. I would like that very much.” Of course, if I was human, I would’ve agreed to do those things in a heartbeat, but since I am _not_ human, I _can’t_ agree to them like I want to…not completely.

Not at _all_.

This talk must have convinced Mom that everything would be fine, because she kisses me on the forehead and says, “See you tomorrow, sweetie. Call us if something happens, and we’ll come straight home.”

“Thanks,” I say, shaking my head, “but I don’t think anything will happen tonight.” _Besides me leaving you behind forever_ , I can’t help thinking in my head, which only brings more tears to my eyes.

“Love you!” Dad calls before he gets in the car with Mom as they prepare to (unknowingly) leave _me_ behind forever too.

“Love you too!” I call back as they close the car doors and pull out of the driveway. As they drive off, I murmur softly, “Goodbye,” before I go back inside the house, finally allowing my tears to spill as I get back to work on packing my bags, knowing that at this point I will never see my _true_ parents ever again.

Luckily, I still have a bit of time before I head to the airport to catch my first flight to Chicago, Illinois, and then from there to Heathrow in London. Although, it isn’t much time (about three hours until Boarding Time), so there is no time for tears at this very moment. I still have much to do before I leave, including writing letters to explain the truth about why I am leaving, so I need to focus.

Once I finish packing, I write a letter to my foster parents, writing:

 _Dear Mom and Dad,_ _  
  
If you are reading this, then I have long since left the country, and I regret to tell you that I will not be telling you where I’m going, nor when I will be coming back, because I won’t be coming back. Now that I have come of age, there is a high chance that my powers will grow stronger and more powerful, and I fear that I will start attracting more danger to myself much more often, whether I use my powers or not, and those dangers may come after you as well if I stay. I don’t want either of you to get hurt because of me, which is why I am leaving you for good. I am sorry, but this is what is best for you as well as myself. The farther I am from you, the safer you will be from me and from anything or anyone else that may target you to get to me. In fact, once I find my bio-parents, it may be best that we leave Earth entirely.  
  
Despite being adopted, being your daughter has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know where I’d be or what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t agreed to raise me for as long as you have. No matter where I am, I will always love you, and I will never stop loving you. You both are seared onto my hearts always.  
  
Also, I may have stolen a few (‘few’ actually being an understatement) thousand dollars from Mom’s account so I could at least afford my travel overseas, as well as tuition and other things (sorry, Mom). I also disconnected my account from our family account (and also so you can’t track what and where I am spending), so I’m officially on my own now. _

_Have a good life._

_Nova_

I also write a letter to Hazel, the only similarity being the first paragraph. For the rest of the letter, I tell her that she’s been the greatest friend anyone could ask for, and that I have always thought of her as a sister to me, despite us being from two different families and species. I end her letter by telling her that I will miss her terribly, no matter where I am, and that she will also have a place in both of my hearts alongside my foster parents.

Once I finish her letter, I tape my foster parents’ letter to the refrigerator, knowing that to be the best place they’ll see it once they get home. Next, I stop by Hazel’s house and deliver her letter in her mailbox, hoping that she’ll receive it after I am gone. Finally, I return to my own house, gather up my bags, and walk out the front door. 

Before I completely leave the property, I turn back to the house and whisper, with tearful eyes, the one thing my bio-father told me before he gave me up, “I wish it never had to be this way, but it is the only way to keep you guys safe. To keep you safe from _me_.” Then, I turn away from the house and leave the property for the last time.

Dragging my suitcase and other bags in tow (as well as my guitar case, as there is absolutely _no way_ I am leaving my music behind), I walk to our local park, thinking that to be the safest place to get picked up instead of my house, not knowing whether my Uber driver might actually be trustworthy or not. I share my location with the app, and a black SUV pulls up to the parking lot of our community pool. He immediately asks my name (‘Sydney,’ since I’m not yet comfortable with using my real name around strangers), and after I confirm, he helps with getting my bags in the trunk, and I tell him to take me to the airport as I get seated in the back seat.

On the way, he is very friendly and talkative with me, asking me general questions, like where I’m travelling, what I’ll be doing there, including whether I’ll be playing in a band (which I don’t) since I have a guitar, and so on. At first, I find it a bit creepy, like he’s asking for specific information, like the exact hotel I’m staying in, or something of that sort, but I just shake off the uneasy feeling and answer as honestly as I can without sounding too paranoid. Granted, I’ve encountered many psychos in my life—two of which had tried, and nearly succeeded, to kill me—so I figure I can’t be too careful, no offense to the driver. As long as he gets me to where I need to be on time, there’s nothing to worry about, right? 

Luckily, he gets me to the airport with an hour to spare. He helps me unload my luggage and even delivers it to the check-in area with me, which is very thoughtful of him. After that, he leaves, and I proceed to the security area and to my designated gate.

The first flight to Chicago is just like every flight I’ve ever been on, which isn’t a surprise. Even as a kid, I’ve always insisted on getting a window seat, because I enjoyed watching the world pass beneath the plane, and I still do. The second the plane lifts off the runway at our local airport, I feel a pang of sadness wash over me. I honestly want to cry, but I hold back the tears, not wanting to be questioned by the passenger sitting next to me, who obviously doesn’t know of my current situation. I then realize that the sadness is actually coming from my missing my family, but I can’t do anything about it, now that we’ve taken off. Instead, I put in my earbuds and listen to some music to calm me down, which does the trick.

While waiting at the gate in Chicago for my flight to Heathrow, I suddenly have a feeling like I’m being watched. It’s not from someone dangerous, nor from another Time Lord like the Doctor or River Song, but it is definitely from someone whom I feel is familiar to me. I glance around at the other waiting passengers, and no one stands out right away as the person who is watching me, but sitting not too far from me is another teenage girl who looks neither older nor younger than me. She is wearing a lime-green sweatshirt and jeans. Her face is partially obscured by the hood of her sweatshirt, but she appears to be staring down at her sneakers, at least for the moment. For some reason, seeing this girl, I can’t help but think of Hazel, because the girl is wearing the exact same sweatshirt that Hazel owns; I know, because I’ve seen her wear it a thousand times at school and at our sleepovers. At one point, the girl glances up toward my direction, but then she looks back down just as suddenly, like she doesn’t want me seeing her face. A part of me wants to go up and talk to her, thinking that we could be the same age, but I decide to stay put, knowing we are about to board the plane anyway. Maybe we’d have a seat near each other, and I can talk to her then, but for some reason that idea seems to be a longshot. Besides, even if we became really good friends, I don’t want to drag her into my situation either, knowing she’d get hurt.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m pretty much done with friends. Because of my abilities, I’ll continue attracting danger to myself for as long as I have them, and any ‘friend’ I meet will just end up being targeted by my parents’ enemies, and I will not let that happen, nor let it _continue_ to happen, hence why I’m leaving my foster parents and Hazel forever. I’m not going to drag anyone else into this mad, alien life of mine.

 _This wolf is officially becoming a loner_ , I declare in my head.

It is about 11pm when the plane takes off, and that’s when I feel more homesick than ever. That exact moment was the moment when we— _I_ —officially left my home country, which means that I am officially _on my own_ …a ‘lone wolf,’ as I now call myself. That other teenage girl I saw earlier, who I know is also somewhere on this plane, hasn’t seemed to have left my mind either. She looked so much like Hazel that if I don’t know any better, I’d say that girl actually _is_ Hazel, but that’s impossible. Just because she dresses seemingly the exact same as Hazel doesn’t mean they’re the same person… _are they?_ I wonder. In any case, it could be I’m seeing ‘Hazel’ there simply because I’m missing her, which I am. I had promised her I’d take her to London with me, but I broke that promise when I lied to her that I was going to be staying in town. I figure if she finds out that I am heading that way right now _without_ her, that might put an end to our friendship, which may be for the best anyway; better to be alone in this mess than drag anybody else into it, as complicated as it already is…as complicated as It’s _continuing_ to become.

To take my mind off of things, and while everyone else on the plane is getting in a comfortable (well, at least as comfortable as one can get on a tightly packed aircraft) sleeping position in their seats, I stare out the window at the starry sky beyond, and I imagine myself with an aircraft of my own, travelling to every star I can see, and what I might find there. Of course, that only exists in Sci-Fi movies, but even if sitting in this plane right now is the closest I’ll ever be to travelling to Outer Space, this is fine with me.

It’s not until about 8am (local time) that we finally arrive in Heathrow Airport. The airport itself is actually quite amazing, especially since I’ve never been to one outside the US before, but I unfortunately don’t have time to explore; better to do that in the city once I get my luggage and settle at the hotel. Unfortunately, I have to catch a taxi into London (as I was unwilling to pay extra for having a chauffeur pick me up), which is a huge hassle, since other people seem to have the same issue as me. Luckily, I catch one before someone else can, and I ask the driver to help me with my luggage as well as take me to the Victor Hotel in the Victoria part of London, which he gladly accepts (although, I’m pretty sure he _has_ to because it’s his job). We exchange pleasantries (he introduces himself as Frank), and we leave the airport, although it takes several minutes because of traffic.

 _I guess international airports are just as busy as the American ones_ , I think with a smile, _maybe even busier_. Of course, this doesn’t bother me one bit, because it’s about the journey and not the destination.

When the main city comes into view, the taxi driver— _Frank_ —literally welcomes me to London, and I can honestly say the sight was literally _breathtaking_. I mean it, because both hearts seemed to stop beating for two minutes straight. I’ve always seen images of London in books, and movies, and stuff, but this right here is a whole new experience for me, because this isn’t just an image…this is _the real thing_. Frank must’ve noticed my reaction, because he immediately comments that I should be thankful that it isn’t raining (I read it rains a lot in England), otherwise the view of the city wouldn’t be as magnificent, which I agree. Now I know how Dorothy felt when she found herself in the Land of Oz; I am _definitely not_ in Kansas anymore... _literally_.

A solid hour later, we arrive at The Victor Hotel in Victoria, London, which looks much like 10, Downing Street, just solid white instead of black. Within ten minutes, I check in (with the receptionist also welcoming me to London, calling me ‘Sydney,’ which made me pause for a moment, knowing that the original owner of that name was now dead, but for some reason I couldn’t quite give up the name just yet) and go upstairs to my assigned room. The room is just like any typical hotel room, with a single queen-sized bed and bathroom. This room even has a balcony that I can stand out on, which I do immediately after I throw my bags and guitar case on the bed.

For several minutes, I just stand outside, taking in the sites as well as the cool morning air. I can’t believe I’m in _London_. I’ve always wanted to come here, even with all the alien invasions that happen here more than any other city on Earth, which I honestly don’t care much about. All that matters is that I am finally here, and nothing is going to change that.

As excited as I am to be here, I can’t help but feel a little sad. Ever since I told Hazel about the idea of coming here, she wanted to come here as well, and I promised her I’d take her one day. Now that I am here, I feel lonelier than ever. If we’d come here together, I think she’d love the view, and she’d want to skip unpacking and immediately go to the nearest tourist attraction without batting an eye.

“Oh, Haze…” I say with a heavy sigh, “I wish you were here. You would love this place. It’s just _amazing_.” 

Not long after I start unpacking my bags, I receive a phone call from the front lobby. I immediately answer it, and the receptionist explains in a seemingly concerned voice that someone has arrived at the hotel, and this person has asked to see me personally, seeing if she can share the room with me. Those words immediately set off a red flag in my mind, so I respond by saying that I don’t want to share my room with a total stranger, and that it would be best if I come downstairs to meet this person in person first, which the receptionist graciously accepts. I hang up and prepare to go downstairs to meet my mysterious roommate- wannabe. Before I leave the room, however, something tells me to bring my unearthly screwdriver from my bio-father with me; he did say in his letter that he insisted that I carry it with me everywhere I go. Needless to say, I have also taken my locket that came with my screwdriver with me on this trip, thinking of it as like a ‘good luck’ charm, which has never left my neck since the day I was given it. 

The moment I reach the lobby, I scan the area with my eyes, looking for anything and anyone I recognize, all the while inserting my hand in my sweatshirt pocket and wrapping my fingers around the hilt of the screwdriver in preparation to use at any emergency. Although, thinking about it, I’m honestly not sure what I’ll ‘think’ it to do if I have to actually use it; there’s a pretty high chance the image of me holding an unearthly flashlight-looking device aloft like a wizard’s wand would look ridiculous. 

Suddenly, I spot the teenage girl in the lime-green sweatshirt I’d seen at the Chicago airport—the girl who reminded me of Hazel—sitting alone, surrounded by large suitcases at her feet. At first, I find it strange that she’s staying at the same hotel as me, as the odds of that happening are like succeeding in finding a needle in a haystack, and yet she’s sitting right there, clear as day. Despite the bizarre circumstances, I approach the girl anyway. Unlike at the airport, this time her hood is down, and I can partially see her familiar face behind her long brown hair.

“Um…hi,” I say a little nervously to the girl. “I saw you yesterday at the Chicago airport, and I couldn’t help but notice that you’re wearing the exact same sweatshirt that my best fri—”

The girl looks up at me, revealing her face, now more familiar than ever, and that’s when my body turns into a lifeless statue.

“Hey, Syd…” _Hazel_ says a little awkwardly, but then she frowns uncertainly and asks, “Or is it Nova now?”

“ _Hazel_?!” I exclaim in disbelief. All this time, the girl at the airport actually _was_ Hazel! I run over, practically tripping over her luggage, and wrap my arms around her in a tight hug. “Oh my god! What are you doing here?”

“Is it not obvious?” Hazel says incredulously. “I followed you. _Duh_.”

I am still speechless. “No, but…you can’t be here.”

“Why not?” she asks, pulling away from me so that she can get her bags that have toppled over. “I’m already here. Besides, I _have_ to be, now that we’re gonna be roommates.”

“No, I said I didn’t want a roommate,” I say, this time seeming to have a hard time controlling my own mouth. I mean, yeah, I don’t want a complete stranger staying in my hotel room with me, but that was before I found out _Hazel_ was said ‘complete stranger,’ or lack thereof.

Hazel chuckles. “Not at the hotel, dumb-dumb. At _school_. You accepted my roommate proposal, remember?”

That is partially true. At the time I was searching for a roommate, I got a request from a girl who had the exact same name as my best friend. My immediate thought was that she was actually a British girl who coincidentally shared the same name as my Hazel, which I thought was pretty cool, and I accepted her request; however, it wasn’t until after I accepted that the school automatically sent me the girl’s email address and phone number, and then I realized that it was in fact the _same_ Hazel, although how that was possible, I didn’t know…at least until _now_.

I shake my head. “No, but…I thought you were just another girl with the same name…and the same phone number and email address,” I add that last part slowly. 

Hazel laughs. “Nope. It was always _me_. You didn’t think you’d get rid of your bestie that easily, did you? Turns out you’re not the only one with secrets.”

“No, it’s not that I was getting rid of you,” I say honestly. “I was…” I then pause, frowning. “Wait, what are you talking about, I’m not the only one with secrets?"

Hazel frowns as well, but in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Nova, don’t tell me you haven’t already figured it out.” She pauses, hoping I’d confirm everything, but I just stare at her, so she explains. “During one of my last sleepovers at your house, I secretly planted a camera in your room so I can see what you’ve been doing, specifically when you’d plan to move out. I honestly thought you were lying when you said you’d be staying in town, and clearly I was right. I specifically put the camera where it was facing your computer so I could see what sites you were looking at, and whenever I saw you applying for more colleges in England, I did the exact same thing and applied for the same colleges. And when I saw you enroll at one school, I enrolled at the same school and requested that you be my roommate for the first year. I even made sure to buy tickets for the exact same flights as you, hence why you saw me in Chicago, and I secretly planted a tracker in your purse so I could find you once you got into London. You can guess how I got here after that.”

I am almost completely speechless at this point, but somehow I still hear words come out of my mouth. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you did all that just to find me.” I then raise an eyebrow and murmur, “You know, I could have you arrested for intentional stalking, right?”

Hazel laughs as if I am joking. “Of course I do.” Then she suddenly pauses, realizing that I’m not. “Wait, you’re not serious, are you?”

“No, but I could have the police force you back to the airport to buy a plane ticket home,” I say. “In fact, I’m _very_ tempted to do that anyway.” If I actually do that, the police would force Hazel to stay home where she’d be on literal house-arrest; that way, she can’t come back to find me like she did today.

“Why?” she says in an offended tone. “I just got here! Besides, I’m fully enrolled here; I’ve paid for all my classes and everything, just like you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “I could still have the police force you to cancel everything and send you back home. Haven’t you read my letter? I left you because I didn’t want you to get hurt, in case I attracted more danger to myself.”

“I understand that,” Hazel nods, “but did you really think I’d just take your advice and let you go off on your own? You’d be in more danger on your own, especially without me around.”

I sigh heavily. Why is it not obvious that I _saved her life_ by leaving her yesterday?

“No, Haze, you don’t get it!” I exclaim. “By coming after me, you just put _yourself_ in more danger. Because of my powers, _I’m_ the one attracting the danger, and as long as you’re with me, you’ll have a higher chance of getting killed; and if that happens, it’ll be because of _me_ , because I let you stay here with me. That’s exactly why I was going to leave you but not tell you where I was going, knowing you’d just follow me. I was leaving you to _protect_ you from me. And now that you’re here…” I suddenly feel another wave of emotion rush through me, and I immediately wrap my arms around her again, not wanting her to see how much I am hurting. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me…because of what I _am_.” It’s the other kind of hurt—the _physical_ kind—that I don’t want Hazel to experience. Now that she’s here, it’s only a matter of time before that happens. 

I hold my best friend against me for what feels like minutes, but in reality it may only be seconds. In any case, I don’t let go, fearing that she might just be an illusion and disappear.

After however much time that passes, Hazel speaks up, saying, “I’m sorry, Nova. I get that you were just doing what you thought was right. You’re right, I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll just cancel my enrollment and catch the first flight home tomorrow.” She releases me and gathers up her bags in preparation to head back to the airport, but I stop her.

“No!” I exclaim, pulling her arm back from lifting one of her suitcases. “In all honesty, I’m glad that you’re here. The truth is, when my Uber driver was driving me to the airport, I was already missing you terribly. I know I promised that I would take you with me to London—not just to school but to also help me find my bio-parents and figure out who and what I am—and at the time I felt like I was breaking that promise, but I was doing it to protect you. But now I see that there’s no stopping you, now that you’re already here; you obviously disobeyed me after I said in my letter that I didn’t want you to follow me, and clearly you’ve proven that you don’t take orders from anyone, certainly not from me.” I then hold out my hand to her and say, “Friends always stick together, for better or worse.”

“Even ‘til death do us part,” Hazel adds, shaking my hand as a way of sealing the promise that can no longer be broken. “Although, if that does happen, the fault will be on _me_ , because I chose to ignore your advice. It won’t be because of you. It’s not your fault you were born the way you are.”

“No, it’s not,” I say in agreement. “It’s my bio-parents’ fault. _They_ turned me into this, and they will _never_ be forgiven.” I then smile, suddenly having a change of mind. “In fact, I’ve decided to _not_ look for them anymore.”

Hazel stares at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Really?” she says incredulously.

I shrug. “Yeah. Why would I want to be acquainted—not to mention _blood-related_ —with people I deeply hate? It’s their fault my life isn’t normal. They took my normality—my _humanity_ —away from me and destroyed it forever by making me this way, and I will never get it back…but that’s not going to stop me from trying to live a normal life. I may not have been born human, but this planet is my home, and it will _always_ be my home. I won’t let my non-humanness take away the parts of me that _are_ human. I was raised as a human, so human is what I will be, from now until I can no longer regenerate.”

“Speaking of which, what about your powers?” Hazel asks curiously. “I mean, your regeneration is what makes you not human.”

I smile uncertainly. “I don’t know, I kinda like having these abilities. They make me feel like a superhero. I mean, I saved your life when I healed your arm that one time. Who knows what would’ve happened to your health if I hadn’t healed you when I did.” _Or if I hadn’t had the courage to knock out that Sontaran_ , I think. If I had the power to see alternate realities, that version of the event would _not_ be one that I would like to see.

“That’s true,” Hazel nods in agreement. 

“The idea of having these so-called ‘superpowers’ is really cool,” I continue, “but that’s all I want them to be—an _idea_ , and nothing more. I’d rather they be imaginative, not real. With these powers, I’m a danger-magnet; I just attract danger, wherever I go, and it’s not by choice. The only way I can live a normal life is if I _never_ had these abilities, and that way I wouldn’t have had to leave home.” This is true. If I was never born with my ( _literally_ ) otherworldly abilities, I’d still be at home, or I would’ve gone with my parents to the concert.

But I’m _not_ normal, and nothing is ever going to change that.

“Will you _ever_ come back home,” Hazel asks hopefully, “even if you’ve decided to not search for your bio-parents anymore?”

I shake my head sadly. “No. I’m sorry, Haze. I wish I could, but I can’t. Like I said, as long as I have these abilities, I’ll just continue attracting danger to myself.”

“Yes, but what if you found a way to get rid of them somehow,” she suggests, “like, give them up?”

I smile, nodding at the idea. “That would be a possibility, but I’d have to know how to give up my powers, and I don’t. My bio-mother did it to save my bio-father once upon a time, but I don’t know how she did it then; my bio-father didn’t say how.” I then pause, realizing something. I then think aloud, “Of course, my bio-parents would know how to do something like that, especially my mother. In which case, I may need to talk to them, after all.” If it’s true that my bio-mother gave up her Time Lord abilities to save my father, maybe she could show me how she did it, and maybe I could do the same.

“So what do you want to do?” Hazel asks me, knowing that at this point, I am completely indecisive, and honestly, I _am_. 

I sigh, confirming her assumption. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I just want a normal life, but I can’t have one with the way that I am, this ‘not being human.’” I recently learned that all these powers have done is bring darkness and destruction (hence why all these alien invasions keep happening), And I don’t know if I can continue to live with that, certainly not with my family. The only way to get even a _semi_ -normal life is by forcing my bio-parents to take away my powers that they have given me since I was first born, and maybe then I’ll have a decent shot, but _only_ if that happens, which makes me more desperate than ever to find them.

 _Dear God, I sure hope I find them soon_ , I pray in my head.

“Well, it sounds like you don’t have a choice,” Hazel says regretfully. “You may have the ability to change your appearance with regeneration, but you can’t change your entire species.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” I agree. “Granted, my first regeneration is what turned me non-human to begin with. I can’t just ‘retro-regenerate’ back to who I was before. That’s impossible; my dad said so in his letter.”

Hazel shrugs. “Well, whatever you decide to do, or how you decide to do it, I’ll be with you, no matter what; and if you go down…”

I smile and finish her statement. “You’ll go down with me.” I then hug her again for what feels like the fourth time today, saying, “Thanks, Haze. I’m starting to think it was a big mistake leaving you.”

“No kidding,” she chuckles, returning the hug. “You know, I’m never going to let you live this down.”

I chuckle as well. “Of _course_ you’re not. I guess I’ll be stuck with you for a while.”

“Yup.” She releases me and starts gathering up her luggage, and I help her carry the items that she can’t carry on her own. She then starts rambling at an incredibly fast speed that would normally be way too fast for human ears to keep up with, but with my Time Lord hearing, I can keep up just fine. “Now, how about we try to become _proper_ sisters? Do you think we’ll meet the Queen while we’re here? Also, when are we gonna start hunting for a British boyfriend?”

I apparently lose my battle with myself in trying to hold back a snort. _Yeah, like hunting for a British boyfriend or girlfriend is the very first thing everyone does after arriving in London_ , I scoff in my head. _Oh, Haze, what would I do without you?_


	13. Chapter 12: Mummy Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four days later, Nova and Hazel spend the day wandering around the city. While resting, Nova has the sense of being watched, and they are later followed by a group of creepy men that seem very interested in the girls, particularly Nova. Not knowing of the men’s true intentions (although Nova has a pretty good idea as to what they’re intending), she decides to split up with Hazel, despite Hazel’s protests. However, shortly after, the plan proves futile as the girls are captured while running their separate ways, and only one is rescued, the rescuer being the most unlikely person she expected to reunite with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before diving into the next chapter, I would like to talk about a few things. 
> 
> Being an American writer when choosing a British setting for my story (although for Part 1, it will be temporary, only for a chapter or two), I am very aware that I may use certain terms and phrases (especially British) that seem wrong or off, and I confess that as an American having lived in England but one that hasn’t lived there in over a decade, my knowledge of British culture and phrases is a little rusty, and I apologize in advance if I get a British word or phrase wrong, or if I seem to be a little out-of-character for some people like the Doctor or River. 
> 
> Also, for those that are confused about Nova’s origins, she is American in this story, hence why she is using American words and phrases throughout. I know that in the actual show, most Time Lords seem to be portrayed as British, but there is always a first for Time Lords to be American, this being the case for Nova. 
> 
> Finally, if you wish to comment on my works, feel free to be as honest as possible, whether it’d be about constructive criticism or grammar mistakes. I always want to look for ways to improve my writing skills and make my stories as great as they can be. The only thing I would like to ask is that you try to be kind with your criticisms, despite your honesty. In the words of the Twelfth Doctor, “Hate is always foolish; love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind.”
> 
> I hope you are still enjoying the story. 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter is very long and contains a minor cliffhanger/reveal at the end.

Four days after our first arrival, we set off exploring what will soon become our new home city. During the first few days, Hazel and I stayed in the hotel for the majority of the time, mainly because I insisted that Hazel catch up on sleep to get over jet lag; she could barely get out a full sentence without yawning every six words that came out of her mouth. Now, she is finally over it—at least for the most part—and we spend the day getting familiar with the city. We spend most of the morning and early afternoon touring the city on the top of one of the iconic double-decker buses that we’ve often seen pictures of in travel magazines, and we visit some of the most famous tourist attractions in the city, such as The British Museum, Buckingham Palace, Westminster and the Houses of Parliament, William Shakespeare’s Globe Theater, and the Tower of London.

After touring around Westminster, we decide to walk across the river to The London Eye and rest our feet at a small bench along The Queen’s Walk at the edge of the river.

“This city is amazing!” Hazel exclaims after twenty minutes of resting. “I can’t believe you tried to _ditch_ me and come here without me.”

“I didn’t ‘ditch’ you,” I shake my head, “not on purpose. Well, sort of, but it was for a good reason. I told you, I left you to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolls her eyes, “you thought you’d attract danger to yourself because of your powers; you keep saying that. In case you haven’t noticed, there hasn’t been any ‘danger’ that’s come after us since we got here; in fact, there hasn’t been a single _invasion_ since we got here. Are you sure you weren’t just being paranoid for no reason when you left?”

“No,” I say seriously, but then I pause, suddenly feeling uncertain. “Well, maybe. I…I don’t know. The truth is, I don’t actually know if my powers attract danger or not. I just noticed that after I healed a paper cut back in Second Grade, a dangerous psychopath invaded our school a few days later, and because of that, I figured I may have accidentally attracted him there because he’d sensed my so-called ‘Time Energy.’ I’m honestly still not sure what he meant by that, or what that actually is, but I think that energy may be something inside me, something in my body that’s giving me my abilities; and as long as that energy is inside me, those who can sense it will be attracted to it and come after it like a moth to a flame. Ever since that moment, I’ve had the fear of similar ‘beings’ coming after me, as well as my family…and _you_.”

“What about that armored dwarf that tried to kill us during Laser Tag back in high school?” Hazel asks curiously. “Do you think it was attracted to your Time Energy too?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It only said it was after _me_ but not my Time Energy; although, it may have been after my energy, hence why it was looking for me. In any case, because I feared that would happen again, or that those psychos would come after my family too, I decided to leave, hoping my family would be safe from them…from _me_.” My words suddenly make me think back on the memory of my bio-father when he said the exact same words to me before he gave me up, and about the same psychos that are the so-called ‘Silence.’ I sigh. “Honestly now, I’m starting to regret leaving in the first place. Maybe I _was_ just being paranoid for no reason. Maybe they only sense my energy whenever I use it, but not when I’m not.”

“So…I guess this means that if you go back home, you can’t _ever_ use your powers again,” Hazel points out, “not even for healing.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “but at least I’ll have a shot at being _human_. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be since I was told I wasn’t human.” Of course, not using my powers ever again won’t change the fact that I’m not human, but I don’t admit that to Hazel, knowing that she is already well aware of that. 

“Well, now you can fulfil that wish,” she smiles.

“Yeah,” I smile back. “Sort of.”

Just then, I suddenly have a feeling like I’m being watched, but it’s not yet clear if the person watching me is an enemy or not. Ignoring the strange feeling, I ask Hazel cheerfully, “So, what’s been your favorite thing you’ve seen here so far?”

Clearly not having the same feeling as me—either that, or the feeling just hasn’t gotten to her yet—she answers casually, “Well, the British Museum was pretty cool, and Buckingham Palace; although I wish we could’ve walked inside. How cool would it have been to see the Queen sitting in one of the rooms drinking tea, or something? Then again, that might be a bit creepy, seeing complete strangers watching you drink tea, right? At least, that would creep _me_ out.”

I laugh. _Haze, always so dramatic_. “Okay. What else?”

“The Tower of London was pretty neat too,” she continues. “Although, what I don’t get is why the place had such tight security. I mean, I know the Queen’s jewels are kept there, but why do they need extra security, like those soldiers that we kept seeing in almost every hallway? Who did you say they were again?”

“U.N.I.T,” I explain. “Stands for ‘Unified Intelligence Taskforce.’ They’re in charge of defending the city, maybe even the planet, from alien invasions…or _anything_ alien, really.”

“Like _you_?” Hazel asks jokingly.

I chuckle. “No. I’m not _that_ kind of alien.”

Hazel laughs as well. “Yeah, I know. That one lady was very friendly, welcoming us to London; though she was a bit of a loony, to be honest. She wore a _freakishly_ long scarf that looked at least four times her height, and it’s not very cold out. She even wore a _bow tie_ , and women don’t typically wear bow ties.”

“I kinda liked it,” I said honestly with a small shrug. “It suited her, no matter what the temperature was. The bow tie was kinda cool too.”

“She seemed to really like your necklace,” Hazel commented with a smile, glancing down at my necklace hanging down my front.

“Yeah,” I agree, looking down at it as well. “Though I should probably hide it from now on.” I then shove it down the neck of my shirt so it is out of sight.

“Why?” Hazel asks, puzzled. “It’s a beautiful necklace; it’s from your home world, or rather your _dad’s_.”

“Yes, the necklace is beautiful,” I agree, “but I don’t want people looking at it and recognizing the symbols. I have a feeling that most people who do are enemies of us…of my _species_ , I mean. I don’t want them to be suspicious of me.” The last thing I want is to be attacked and killed by a seemingly random stranger who just happens to know where my necklace comes from. I mean, why should someone be brutally attacked if someone else doesn’t like a certain piece of clothing or jewelry? The comprehension of this is lost on me.

Though, Hazel seems to understand just fine, at least for my case. “That’s true,” she nods.

Suddenly, the feeling of being watched heightens a bit, and it has become much harder to ignore it. I glance toward the direction of where I am feeling the sense the most, and I see a pair of men dressed in black staring right at me, moving two feet closer to our current location. In fact, I’ve noticed this happen at the corner of my eye several times already.

“Speaking of which,” I murmur to Hazel as I stare intensely back at the men, “I think there might already be some suspicious people here.”

“What do you mean?” Hazel asks with a frown. “What’s wrong, Nov?”

Since I don’t want to point directly at the staring pair, I step to the other side of Hazel so she is facing them, but my back is to them. “Those two men in the black hoodies…they’re staring at us,” I murmur to her. “Have been for a while.”

She glances suspiciously at them and then murmurs back to me, puzzled, “Why? Who are they?”

“I don’t know, but they’re dangerous,” I say, still keeping my back to them and my voice low in case they might be listening.

“How do you know?” she asks, her anxiety increasing slightly.

“Two reasons,” I say. “One, their posture, and two, they’ve been gradually coming closer to us without making it seem too obvious. Although they’re kinda failing at it, especially to those who have a keen eye for noticing red flags like this, like me. Needless to say, I’ve become much more observant as of late, and you can understand why.”

“So why are they making it obvious to _you_ that they’re coming after you?” Hazel asks, knowing of the complete _lack_ of logic that this situation seems to possess. Obviously, when you’re planning to capture someone, you _don’t_ make that obvious to the person you’re trying to capture, right?

Then again, maybe these guys actually know what they’re doing—in which case, they _want_ me to know what they’re up to—which sets my nerves on edge.

“Because they might know who I am,” I say, confirming my own suspicion, “and maybe even _what_ I am.”

“Are they here for your Time Energy?” Hazel asks nervously but also curiously.

“I don’t know what they want from me,” I say, shaking my head. “Maybe they are, or maybe they want to kidnap me, no doubt to train me as an assassin against my father like they did with my mother. Or they’re here simply to kill _me_. Whatever the case, they’re dangerous, and we need to avoid them at all costs.”

Just then, I see one of the men whisper something in a walkie-talkie, and I am able to make out a few phrases with my enhanced Time Lord hearing.

“Let’s go,” I insist as I take Hazel’s arm and pull her in the opposite direction as a way of giving the message that we need to leave this area immediately. She takes the hint, but she can’t help but look behind her at the men, who begin to follow us at a distance. “Don’t look at them,” I tell her, not wanting the men to know that we know they’re following us; although, they might already know. “Just keep walking. I don’t think they’re alone.”

“How do you know?” Hazel asks, her anxiety increasing even more.

“I heard one of the guys whisper through a walkie-talkie, ‘she’s by the river to your left,’” I explain without knowing any other way to say it without totally freaking Hazel out. “‘She’ being _me_ , so they’re obviously not alone.” Of course, with so many people around, there’s no way of telling who else these creepers could be with.

“Who else are they with?” Hazel reads my mind exactly, glancing around her in seeming panic.

“I don’t know, but stay close and keep your eyes open,” I say seriously, sensing that we’re not as safe here as I thought we would be. Then again, to be technical, _nowhere_ is truly safe, knowing that dangers could be lurking around every corner, including in one’s own home. “They could be attempting to surround us.”

“But they won’t actually _attack_ us, right?” Hazel says reassuringly, even though she was mostly reassuring herself. “Not with so many people around.”

“You never know of _anyone’s_ true intentions, Haze,” I say honestly. “Maybe attacking us in front of millions of people doesn’t matter to them, no matter how stupid that plan is. What’s important is that we stay clear of them.”

We start walking away from the London eye and toward the main streets. I have started developing a plan in my head to try to lose the creepers in several ways, like crossing the street when the traffic light immediately turns green, or sneaking into a shop and laying low in it until the men give up.

“Where are we going?” Hazel asks me after a minute of walking.

Not knowing of any particular destination that comes to mind, I say, “Anywhere as long as we lose them. The last thing we want is for them to know where we’re staying.”

“What if they keep following us,” she asks, her voice now starting to shake a bit out of nervousness, “even if we try losing them in a large crowd?”

Knowing that our options are severely limited, I say the only other alternative that comes to mind, even though it’s going to be one that Hazel will not like. “Then…we’ll have to split up.”

Apparently, I am right, because she says incredulously, “Split up? Are you crazy?”

“If I’m right that they’re only after _me_ , they might leave you alone if we split up,” I confess. “That way you’ll have a chance to escape.”

“But what about _you_?” Hazel asks, now legitimately panicking; I know, because I can literally sense her single heart beating rapidly in her chest at the insane idea. “I’m not leaving you!”

Even when I first thought of the idea, it was insane to me too. By splitting up, the guys will have to choose who to come after (between me or Hazel), and, of course, whoever they choose to come after will be in the most danger. Obviously I’m not going to let them come after Hazel, since whatever these creeps want me for, she has no involvement in it whatsoever. If anyone is going to be followed, and, possibly later, captured, it should be _me_. Besides, I have a feeling that whatever it is these guys have a problem with, it must be a Time Lord thing, which is obviously _way_ beyond Hazel’s comprehension; then again, it’s way beyond mine as well. 

“You may not have a choice,” I say, shaking my head. “This is exactly the reason why I didn’t want you following me to London. Whatever it is those thugs want with me, I don’t want you involved. That is why you must run.”

“No!” Hazel exclaims. “I’m not leaving you!”

Knowing that Hazel would refuse to leave me again, especially after I had left her (and honestly, I don’t blame her), I shake my head and say, “Haze, there’s no time for arguing! They’re gaining on us, and there seems to be a lot more of them now.”

Since we’ve been walking, I’ve seen other men dressed in black coming out of nearby alleyways and side streets, and they all seem to be converging on us.

“How many?” Hazel asks, nervously looking over her shoulder at the other men that have joined the original two.

“ _Too_ many for me to take on at one time.” I turn back as well to find at least fifteen men walking at a close distance behind us, gradually increasing their speed. “Crap!” I curse at them, turning my back on them once again.

“What do we do, Nova?” Hazel says, her voice whimpering now out of fear. “There seems to be way too many of them now, like you said. If any more come, they’ll catch us…or _worse_ …”

Not knowing of any other options that would help us in our escape, I sigh and say apologetically, “I’m sorry, Hazel, but…I think we may have to split up, after all.”

No surprise, Hazel doesn’t like my suggestion, even though it’s the only one we have now. “ _What_? No! I said I’m not leaving you!”

“Haze, you have to!” I insist. “I’d be keeping you safe that way.”

“No!” she screams, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “‘You go down, I go down with you!’ Remember?”

“Not this time, Haze,” I say regretfully. “It’s not safe for us to be together right now. Besides, they’re after _me_ , not you. If you run and hide somewhere, and if I’m able to lose them, I’ll come and find you.”

For some reason, when these words are said, they sound like a lie. For some reason, I don’t think I am going to survive this, which is why I want Hazel to run if I am actually captured. Even though I promise to find her, thinking about it now, I may not be able to live up to that promise. In fact, I may not live at all, if the men capture me and decide to kill me right on the spot; or, at the very least, I won’t survive as _myself_ , depending on if I can still regenerate. Even if I do survive this, I may reunite with Hazel, but with a new face. In any case, if Hazel is captured, her chances of survival are slim to none.

“No, Nov, listen!” she argues. “If we split up, you won’t have anyone to protect you if you get caught, and nor will I!”

“I know,” I nod. “Like I said, they’re not here for you; they’re here for _me_. If I’m caught, you’ll have a chance to escape. You’ll be safe without me.”

“No!” Hazel screams again, not wanting to hear any more of the subject, but I’m not going to give her a choice, because I know that this is what is best for us…for _her_. 

“Haze, this isn’t up for discussion,” I say sternly. “We’re doing this. I’m doing this to keep you safe. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I don’t want _you_ getting hurt either,” she says with tears still streaming down her cheeks.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” I say, although it sounds like a lie again. “I’ve got my martial arts skills to protect me. Meanwhile, you’re going to run, and you’re not going to stop running until you get somewhere safe. I’m going to do the same thing, and whenever it’s safe again, I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

“How will we know when it’s safe to come back?” Hazel says uncertainly.

“Honestly…we won’t,” I say with a sigh. “At least _I_ won’t.”

“Why do I get the feeling like I’m never going to see you again?” she asks fearfully, like my words will be the last that she will ever hear me say, which, for all I know, probably will be. 

“I’m sorry, Haze,” I say, now feeling tears fill my own eyes. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Hazel then squeezes my hand so tightly that it hurts, but I don’t let it show. “I always do.”

Looking ahead, I notice that the street ends at another perpendicular street that goes seemingly infinite in both directions, and I get an idea. “Okay…” I murmur to Hazel quietly, knowing the men are much closer to us now, a little _too_ close for comfort. “Once we get to the end of the street, you’re going to walk one way, and I’m going to walk down the other. Then, once we reach the end of our streets, and depending on how many men follow us, we’re going to run. If they run too, just keep running, and don’t stop running until you get somewhere safe. Then you’re going to head back to the hotel; luckily it has good security, so they can’t access the lift without a keycard.”

“What about you?” Hazel asks nervously, still not liking this plan of mine, but it is the only one available.

“I’m going to have as many men as I can chase me,” I say, “and once I’m able to lose them, I’m going to lay low for a while until I know I’m no longer being chased. Then I’ll come and find you back at the hotel.” Again, it sounds like I’m lying, but at this point I can’t help it. Even if I actually am lying, this seems to be exactly what Hazel wants to hear—for me to come back to her safely. However, the definition of ‘safely’ for me is very different from her definition. Will I safely return to her with my current face, or will I return with a totally different face? Will I even return safely at _all_? Only Time will tell at this point.

As we’re reaching the end of the block, Hazel hugs me tightly. “Be careful, Nova. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” I say, returning the hug. “Remember, run, and _don’t stop running_.” I then look back at the men, who are still following us. In fact, I don’t think they’re going to stop following us until they capture us…or rather, they’re not going to stop until they capture _me_.

Suddenly, something happens that we don’t expect. One of the men shouts out at us, “You little ducklings seem to be lost.”

At first, I am surprised that one of them actually spoke up at all, but I don’t let this distract me from my plan. “Get ready,” I murmur to Hazel, ignoring anything else the men might say to us.

“I’m scared,” Hazel whimpers quietly to me, squeezing my hand again.

“Don’t be,” I shake my head. “We’re going to see each other again. I promise.” That last bit is an honest truth. No matter what, I’m going to find my way back to her, no matter what face I am wearing. 

The same man suddenly speaks up again, this time saying, “If you’re lost, we can show you the way. We can help you get back to where you need to go.”

At this point, I almost pause in my tracks, suddenly recognizing the man’s voice.

Hazel must have caught on to the same conclusion as me, because she says in shock, “Nova… That voice…it’s—”

“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s the school intruder from back in Second Grade. Get ready to make like a Banana _Split_.” At first, Hazel frowns at my words, but then she nods a second later, understanding what I am saying. A second after, her expression shifts back to fear. “I know, Haze,” I assure her. “I understand, but this is the only way.” We both have our own priorities. She doesn’t want me to ever leave her again, and I want her safe from any danger that ever exists. Unfortunately, with our current situation, neither of us can be safe…

Not unless I take this leap of faith. _Alone_. 

“You know who I am, don’t you?” the man that was our school intruder speaks up again. “I heard you two whispering. And I know what you’re about to do. You’re not going to get very far.”

Even if he does know what we’re about to do, we’re not going to let him succeed in taking us, wherever it is. Once we reach the end of the street, I hug Hazel one last time. “Okay, it’s time,” I whisper in her ear. “Run, and don’t stop running.”

“Be careful, Nova,” she says tearfully before she releases me and bolts down the right end of the street. I pause and stare at the men before I start walking in the opposite direction as Hazel.

After five seconds, I look back, and I notice that the ‘leader man,’ who I assume is— _was_ —our school intruder, signals for a small group of other men to go after Hazel, and I can’t help but say angrily in my head, _Don’t you dare come after her. Come after **me** instead_. Of course, the majority of the men, including the school intruder, continue coming after me, but I turn my back on them again and ignore them as I pick up my walking pace. 

“That wasn’t a very clever move,” the intruder taunts me, “splitting from your little human friend. Now, she doesn’t have anyone to protect her…and nor do _you_.”

He is right, of course, but there is something about me that he doesn’t know. _No_ , I say in my head, _but I have a secret weapon; and if you hurt Hazel, you’re going to wish you never came after me eleven years after you last terrorized me and my friends_.

I then turn onto another more public street, but the men continue to follow me (no surprise). I pick up the pace again as I sense the men doing the same. Then, just as a large group of tourists exits off a bus and blocks the men’s path, I immediately begin running at a full sprint. 

“She’s bolting!” I hear the intruder/leader shout behind me. “Don’t let her escape this time!” I then hear rushing footsteps behind me from the other men, but I don’t dare look.

 _‘This time,’_ I couldn’t help sniggering in my head, _because last time he **failed** to capture me because of my bio-mom_. How hilarious would it be for that to happen again? 

I continue running at full sprint down the street, avoiding running into people as I go. Luckily, most of them jump out of the way as I pass them; however, those that aren’t fast enough get shoved out of the way, at least by the men chasing me. Seeing an alleyway, I take the chance to use it to lose the men, but they follow me right inside.

“You won’t get very far, Time Lord!” another of the intruder’s/leader’s cronies shouts after me, seeming to not care who else might be listening. “We’ll find you!”

“You’ll have to _catch_ me first,” I can’t help snapping back at him, though it is more of a murmur to myself.

I continue running, hoping beyond hope for a way out, but this particular alleyway I’ve run into seems to have become a maze, and I keep thinking that the next corner I turn around might just be the way out, only to be wrong, and I end up finding more dark and seemingly endless alleyways. Usually with mazes, there is at least one way out, but there are also a number of dead-ends, and if I run into a dead-end, I’m screwed.

Unfortunately, the odds of escaping this alleyway alive are not in my favor, because I suddenly run into a dead-end with absolutely no way out. I look around frantically for some kind of hidden door to slip through quietly, but there is none; there isn’t even anything I can use to defend myself with. “ _Fudgeknuckle_!” I curse loudly in defeat.

I then turn toward the way I came, and I see that the men have managed to catch up to me. “You got nowhere left to run, Time Lord,” one of them taunts, grinning at me like a predator grins at a piece of meat. “There are too many of us for you to fight alone.”

“You sure about that?” I glare back at him, gathering all of my martial arts training to the forefront of my brain. “I’d take back that last statement, if I were you. Automatically assuming things like that about a person makes you look stupid, and stupidity never looks good on a henchman.”

The man sniggers at me. “You think you’re so clever with your words, just like your father, but you have no idea whom you’re dealing with.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” I say carelessly. I may appear to be weak, fragile, and easy to kidnap, despite having two hearts, but these bozos know absolutely _nothing_ about me and the powers I possess, not to mention the skills I was taught since I was seven. “You wanna dance, it’s on!” I say as I get into the ‘ready position’ that I was taught to get into before a big fight. “Bring it!”

“I’ll lead!” The man says as he advances on me, but I take him down in a heartbeat.

“Whatever happened to ‘ladies first?’” I ask in mock puzzlement as several more men come at me, but again, I kick them to the turf just as easily as I did the first guy.

After a while, too many men come after me at one time, and I struggle to take them all by myself. One of the men grabs me and throws me against the wall, and my vision is cloudy when my head bangs hard against the rough surface. As I struggle to get back on my feet from a slight headache, another man kicks me in the chest, and I scream in pain from the powerful blow, hearts racing and vision hazy. _Maybe it wasn’t clever to taunt them, after all_ , I think, and even in my head, my voice sounds weak.

Suddenly, I am roughly hoisted up to my feet by two men who restrain me. Once they have me secure in their tight grips, I am approached by another man who seems to be the group’s leader. When first laying eyes on him, I immediately think of the character Voldemort from the _Harry Potter_ films, because his skin is incredibly pale, and he has thin slits for a nose, but, unlike Voldemort’s eyes, his eyes are deep-set and dark as night. 

“We meet again, Nova Susan Song,” he says with an evil smirk, like he has finally claimed the prize that he has been longing to win for a long time—eleven years, to be exact. I know this, because I recognize his voice as the intruder that invaded my school back then.

Physically, I may be too weak to fight, but mentally, I can still pack a solid punch.

“ _Again_?” I scoff. “Sorry, I don’t recall ever meeting you. At least, I didn’t get to meet you in person after my _mother_ shot your ass!”

“Ooh, such _fire_ in your soul,” he sniggers at me. “Your parents named you well.”

“What do _you_ know of my parents?” I ask in a doubtful tone, because I seriously doubt that he knows anything about my parents, both foster and biological, including me. 

He pauses, feigning puzzlement. “Hmmm…depends which ‘parents’ you’re referring to—your biological parents who left you behind, or your primitive human parents whom _you_ left behind. I must say, you leaving your human parents behind was the biggest mistake of your life.” He then smirks again. “Or should I say ‘ _lives_?’”

 _Lives?_ I think. _How could he possibly know of such things? Nobody should know anything about that except my family and Hazel_.

“That’s right,” the intruder/leader nods, noticing my confusion, “I know your little secret. I know what you are… _Time Lord_. There aren’t very many of you anymore. There used to just be your _daddy_ , but now there’s your mother…and _you_.”

At the mere mention of my foster parents, I can’t help but fear for their safety. “What have you done to my foster parents?” I demand angrily. He obviously knows something about them; otherwise why would he have mentioned them at all? He must’ve done something to them, and maybe to Hazel.

The intruder/leader chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry about them; they’re being well taken care of. My madam has found them a comfortable place to rot.” He then grins evilly, and I feel that so-called ‘fire’ burning inside me again as I attempt to free myself from his cronies’ grips but fail. “And soon, your little human companion will join them.”

Those last words suddenly make me think of Hazel, and the fact that she didn’t make it back to the hotel safely. “You _bastard_!” I scream in his face. “If you’ve hurt either of them, I swear, I’ll—!”

He chuckles again. “My, my, my, there is _much_ fight in you. Clearly, I underestimated your abilities, you taking down _six_ of my men all by yourself.”

“I’ve had _years_ of training,” I spit back at him matter-of-factly.

“And you will have many _more_ years if you join us,” he says, and somehow I know he is a member of the Silence, knowing that, according to my bio-dad, that group has been wanting me to join them for years, and they have finally found and captured me, and will no doubt force me to join their cause. He leans ever closer to me where I can smell his rotten breath. “You know you fight just as well as your _mother_ did when we trained her. She, too, had much fire in her soul; we obviously chose well with her, and it seems like we might choose well with _you_. I wonder if _all_ Time Lord females have this much spunk, or it’s just a family trait.” He then attempts to stroke my cheek with the back of his hand, but I don’t give him that satisfaction and think that he has any power over me.

“Sorry to disappoint, _Voldemort_ ,” I say, roughly pulling away from his touch, “but I think I’ll _pass_ on that offer. I don’t think ‘murderous psychopath,’ or even ‘Death Eater,’ would look good on a resume. Besides, I’m pretty sure my mother _failed_ you guys when she married the one person she was trained to kill. And a good thing too, because _I_ wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.”

The intruder/leader frowns at me and looks as if he’s about to ask me how I know all of this when suddenly, he is interrupted by an all-too-familiar female voice from behind him, “No, she wouldn’t.” I look over his shoulder and see the mysterious British curly-haired woman I had seen several times throughout my life, now standing twenty feet from us with a proud smirk plastered on her face—her face that looks very similar to my own. “Hello, sweetie,” she smiles at me, her unusual greeting greatly confusing me. _Why would a complete stranger call me ‘sweetie?’_ I think to myself. _We don’t even know each other_.

At least…I _think_ we don’t. At least, I don’t know _her_ , but she clearly knows me, hence why she’s appeared to me throughout my childhood.

“ _You_!” the intruder/leader exclaims in shock and anger. “Get her, you idiots!”

The other men advance on the new arrival, but she takes them down just as easily as I had the first time, only she shoots them down with her futuristic-looking gun, which she takes out with lightning-speed. About eight other men follow suit, but she shoots them one-by-one, and they don’t get back up, making me wonder whether she’d stunned them or killed them. Even the two men that hold me captive release me and attack the woman, and I take the opportunity to take down the intruder/leader, having regained my strength, but he’s quick and pushes me back against the wall, pressing his elbow firmly on my throat, making me choke slightly.

Luckily, the woman has no problem taking down all of the other men, unlike me, and I can honestly say—though maybe not at this very moment, what with Voldemort’s elbow blocking my vocal cords—her combat skills are impressive and clearly much more advanced than mine. A small part of me thinks to ask her to give me some extra combat training after this is over, but I put that thought to the back of my mind.

Once the last of the intruder/leader’s cronies falls to the floor (dead or unconscious, I don’t know), the woman steps forward and points her gun at him. “That wasn’t very clever, ordering your dunderheads to kill me,” she says under her breath, glaring daggers at him. 

Surprisingly, the intruder/leader isn’t upset that she had defeated his other men in the fight. Instead, he smiles, seemingly innocently, and says, “ _Mrs_. Song, how good to see you again. Here for a little family reunion, are you?”

For a second, I wonder what he means by ‘family reunion,’ but I put that thought to the back of my mind as well. Instead, I focus on the current situation, knowing that I could have my neck snapped at any moment.

“No,” the woman says seriously. “I’m here to finish what we started. Clearly my aim was a little off last time, but now, I can promise you that I will _not_ miss this time.” She’s obviously referring to their last meeting eleven years ago, when she saved me and my other classmates from the leader when he invaded our school. Apparently, she hadn’t killed him then, like I thought she did; _obviously_ , since he’s standing right in front of me, strangling the life out of me. “And it’s _Professor_ Song to you.” This statement makes me snigger under the leader’s tight hold on me, knowing those with a proper title, such as that, have a much higher power over anyone else lacking a legitimate title. She continues, “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, a little _differently_ this time…let the girl go, or I’ll burn a hole right through your chest, this time _without_ missing!” My smirk widens a little, knowing the leader isn’t going to survive much longer, despite him still holding me tight by the throat. One shot from the woman, and he’s toast.

But apparently, the leader thinks he still has the upper hand, even after his other henchmen have been defeated. “I’ve said _this_ before, and I’ll say it again…” he says, “what could be worse than a burnt hole in the chest, mummy dearest? Our numbers have risen by millions since our last meeting. One less Vokanari makes no difference.” Those words instantly make me think back on that day in Second Grade, when he said those exact same words to her. He then smirks, glancing at me, making my stomach churn. “In fact, now that our numbers have risen so much, perhaps we no longer need your precious daughter to be the face of our cause.” He then takes his arm off of my throat and, instead, wraps his fingers tightly around it, this time blocking any air from getting into my system. I involuntarily begin having a choking fit under his grip, trying and failing to rip his hand off of me, and I feel my hearts go into a panicked overdrive due to my lack of breath. 

“I’m warning you!” the woman shouts, cocking her gun as if to change the setting from ‘stun’ to ‘kill.’ _So the other guys aren’t dead_ , I think with a small pang of relief. “Step away from her now!”

As much as I don’t want to see anyone actually get killed, a part of me can’t help but beg the woman to go ahead and kill the bastard, since he’s clearly trying to strangle me to death. At this point, my vision begins to darken due to the lack of oxygen, and I feel like I’m going to pass out at any moment.

 _Please…_ I beg the woman in my head, my voice sounding incredibly weak. _Do it. Take the shot. Now!_

I suddenly see the woman’s posture perk up as if she heard me, but how she heard me, I have no idea.

“Sure, my madam might be disappointed that it wasn’t your _daughter_ that finally did away with your hubby,” the leader says as if he hadn’t heard the woman’s warning, “but even if someone _else_ were to succeed in killing him, I’m sure she wouldn’t care either way, as long as he’s dead and _stays_ that way.”

Suddenly, there is a loud noise and a flash of light, and then I feel the leader’s grip around my throat loosening, making me breathe a little easier. I manage a small gasp of air as I look down and see a perfect burnt hole in the leader’s chest, which looked like it had gone straight through his heart.

I glance back up at the woman, her gun smoking at the tip, as she says, staring unblinkingly at him, “You’re wrong. I won’t let _anyone_ harm my husband or daughter for as long as I live…especially _you_.” After she finishes speaking, the leader finally releases me and collapses to the floor, leaving me coughing out of shock and breathlessness.

“Are you alright?” the woman asks me after she replaces her gun back in her holster at her hip.

I nod, rubbing my sore neck. “Yeah. Thanks.” Still feeling a little weak, I lean against the wall, struggling to catch my breath and get my racing hearts back under control. While I am recuperating, I watch the woman as she seemingly inspects the bodies of anything worth of value. From one of the cronies’ bodies, she steals what looks like a leather strap with several buttons and a large screen on the center and seems to do something with the device before placing the leather strap back on the body’s wrist. She repeats this process on all of the other men except the leader.

Thinking of this as strange behavior, I ask, “Um, what’re you doing?”

“I take it you don’t want these men coming after you again,” the woman says casually but also knowingly, “so I’m going to send them over to the proper authorities; though not the authorities that _you’re_ used to.”

At first, I’m not sure what she means, but then I remember the fact that this woman may not be human, like me; therefore, the ‘proper authorities’ that she is sending the men to may also not be human.

“What do you mean?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Are you talking about _space_ -police?”

“Precisely,” the woman nods. “Now, may I borrow your sonic?”

“Sonic?” I ask, puzzled at the unusual word. 

“Your screwdriver,” the woman says as if it is obvious, “in your pocket.” That’s when it clicks in my head. She’s talking about the sketchy device that my father sent me as a ‘coming of age’ gift. In confusion, I suddenly find myself handing it over seemingly willingly. “Thank you, sweetie,” the woman smiles at me as she stands up from the floor and steps off to the side.

 _She called me ‘sweetie’ again_ , I can’t help thinking in my head. _Why does she keep doing that, especially when we’re practically complete strangers of each other? It must be a British thing. Either that, or ‘sweetie’ is just an informal greeting that she likes to use_. In any case, it’s a bit weird.

Ignoring the weird feeling, I ask a little worriedly, “What’re you gonna do with it?”

“This!” the woman exclaims. She then presses the button on the screwdriver, and the men suddenly disappear in a massive flash of light, all except for the leader.

“What did you just do?” I exclaim in shock. I can’t decide if whatever I saw was amazing or frightening, but a part of me hopes for the former. 

“I told you, I sent them to the proper authorities,” the woman says as she tosses the screwdriver back to me, which I slightly fumble with upon catching it, not expecting her to give it back in this way. “The ‘space-police,’ as you called them; though their _technical_ name is the Shadow Proclamation.”

I nod, pretending like I know everything that she’s talking about, even when in truth I know absolutely _nothing_. “What about this guy?” I ask, gesturing down at the leader still lying, face-down and unmoving, on the floor.

The woman suddenly shakes her head. “Oh, I’m not sending _him_ with them.”

“Why not?” I ask in puzzlement and disbelief.

“Because he’s dead,” she says obviously.

“So, what, we’re just gonna _leave_ him there?” I ask, feeling slightly disturbed at the idea, no matter how horrible this guy was before she killed him.

“Is that a problem?” she asks with a shrug, like it’s perfectly normal to leave a dead body lying in the middle of an alleyway for someone else to discover later. Maybe it’s normal for people like her, but it’s _not_ normal for people like me.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” I say, at a loss as to why this crazy woman can’t see the complete and utter _lack_ of logic of this situation. “I mean, to leave a dead body—”

“Oh, pish-posh!” the woman says, waving her hand dismissively. “There’s no need for that. What matters is that you’re safe…at least for now.”

“I wish the same could be said for Hazel,” I say sadly, suddenly thinking about her. “Those sickos took her somewhere, but he didn’t say where. Some of those other guys could’ve been helpful, if you hadn’t sent them away. You could’ve forced them to tell us where they took Hazel.” A part of me blames this woman for Hazel’s kidnapping, but somehow I know that’s actually not the case. Somehow, I know that this woman tried to save her, but she was unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” the woman says apologetically, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get her back, I promise.”

I suddenly frown at her calling me by that nickname again. _Seriously, what is up with her?_ “Why do you keep calling me ‘sweetie?’” I ask in almost a demand. “Who are you?” Clearly she’s using that nickname like she knows me, but I don’t know anything about her, except that she’s been stalking me my whole life.

She then straightens up. “I think you know _exactly_ who I am, Nova Susan Song,” she says, using my full name, which sends creepy vibes up my spine. “You’ve seen me watching over you and protecting you while you were growing up. It’s what _any_ mother would do for their child.”

“Your _child_?” I ask, puzzled. A part of me believes everything that she is saying, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I actually _do_ know exactly who she is. She clearly knows my true name, and the way she said it was like _she_ was the one who came up with the name all those years ago; not to mention our surnames are exactly the same. And the fact that she called me her ‘ _child_ ,’ that can only mean one thing…

“Wait…” I exclaim in shock, the realization finally dawning on me. “You’re my—?”

“Yes, sweetie,” the woman nods with a smile. “I am your mother…the _original_ , you might say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED!!!!!
> 
> It is official! Nova has finally met her mom! Get ready for her to meet her dad next chapter, and also get ready for some big revelations.
> 
> Although, after the next chapter is posted, this story will be on a temporary hiatus. So far, I’ve just been making things up as I go, but now that I am reaching a point in the story where I am writing events to do with the overall plot, I will be taking a short break in order to do some more careful planning with the overall plot. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the friendly comments and kudos thus far, and I hope to continue with this story soon.
> 
> Meanwhile, feel free to check out some of my other works on my page, and keep an eye out for a possible prequel for this story, which will be about how Nova’s story began, but will mostly be about her parents (The Doctor and River Song) and the obstacles that they had to go through (particularly River’s pregnancy), which later led to her father making the decision to give her up to be raised by humans. The prequel will also be like a Part 2 of the episode “A Good Man Goes to War.”


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